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1       3AN  DIEGO       i 


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presented  to  the 
UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
SAN  DIEGO 

by 


Mr. 

John 

Snvder 

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UNIVERSHV    01    CAl 


3   1822  01096  3205 


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m  QUARTERS  WITH  THE 

25™  (THE  BLACK  HOIiSE)  DRAGOONS. 


IN  quartp:rs 


Q. 


WITH      THE 


25th  (The  ]]lack  Horse)  Dragoons 


BY 

J.    S.    WINTER 


NEW     YORK 
HARPER    &     BROTHERS,     Publishkrs 

FRANKLIN     SQUARE 


CONTENTS. 


rAOE 

A  Regimental  M.P 5 

Paid  Out 31 

The  Mem-Sahib's  Promise 36 

The  Piano  Fiend 52 

Distinction 69 

A  Hidden  Hero 85 

A  Regimental  Ghost 103 

Broke ^    .    .    .    .  120 

Jewel  or  Paste 138 


A  REGIMENTAL  M.P. 

The  good  city  of  Wharnecliffe  knew  the  Scar- 
let Lancers  no  more,  and  the  regiment  in  posses- 
sion of  the  barracks,  which  lay  snugly  under  the 
shelter  of  the  Castle  Hill,  was  the  Twenty-fifth 
("  The  Black  Horse  ")  Dragoons. 

For  a  few  weeks  the  npper  crust  and  the  pretty 
demoiselles  of  Wharnecliffe  were  disposed  to  re- 
gret the  old  regiment,  and  to  cast  reflections  un- 
favorable to  the  new-comers  upon  their  appear- 
ance, their  form,  the  color  of  their  uniform,  the 
class  of  their  cattle,  and  the  general  tone  of  their 
demeanor.  It  is  a  state  of  things  which  mostly 
does  happen  when  a  regiment  goes  into  fresh 
quarters ;  almost  as  invariably  the  impression 
fades  away  as  the  new  arrivals  become  better 
known,  until  they  in  their  turn  depart,  leaving 
lamentations  and  regrets  behind  them. 

In  this  instance,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  good 
people,  and  especially  the  pretty  demoiselles  of 
Wharnecliffe,  did  not  take  a   very  long  time  to 


6  WITH  THE  TWENTY-FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

discover  that  they   liked  the  Black  Horse   very 
much  indeed,  even  so  much  as  to  vote  them  an 
improvement  upon  the  Scarlet  Lancers  — an  im- 
provement because  the   commanding  officer  was 
a  bachelor,  ergo,  the  married  officers  were  in  the 
minority,  which  was  not  the  case  with  those  who 
had  preceded   them.     There   is  no  doubt  what- 
ever that  the  chief  does  set  the  fashion  in  most 
things  to  the  officers   of  his   regiment.     I  have 
found  it  an   almost  invariable   rule   that  if  the 
colonel  goes  clean  shaven,  except  as  to  his  up- 
per lip,  whiskers  are  tabooed  by  his  officers ;  if 
the  colonel  is  a  downright  milksop  (oh  yes !  it  is 
quite  possible ;  I  have  known  several)  that  regi- 
ment is  never  much  good   at  polo  or  anything 
else;  if  the  colonel  has  a  fancy  for  wearing  his 
unmentionables  in  a  neat  arrangement  of  wrin- 
kles and  bagginess,  a   similar  taste   will   prevail 
throughout  the  regiment ;  while  if  he  be  unmar- 
ried, the  regimental  Benedicks  are  positively  no- 
where. 

It  was  80  with  the  Black  Horse,  and  assuredly 
the  pretty  demoiselles  of  Wharnecliffe  were  not 
likely  to  grumble  at  the  fact :  anyway  they  didn't 
grumble  — on  the  contrary.  As  for  the  Black 
Horse,  they  were  very  well  satisfied   with   their 


A   REGIMENTAL   M.P.  7 

new  quarters;  they  bad  come  from  Aldershot, 
which  they  to  a  man  cordially  detested.  Wharne- 
cliffe  was  bright  and  clean  and  cheery.  There 
was  good  society,  good  shooting,  and  better  hunt- 
ing in  the  neighborhood ;  moreover,  they  hoped  to 
be  quartered  there  for  two  years. 

Still,  though  at  heart  they  were  all  so  well 
satisfied  with  the  pleasant  lines  in  which  their 
places  had  fallen  unto  them,  there  were  spirits 
among  them  who  found  Wharnecliffe  just  tinged 
with  dulness,  who  found  not  sufficient  relaxation 
in  afternoon  teas  and  evening  receptions,  and  ap- 
preciated even  less  the  stately  dinners  and  other 
entertainments  periodically  given  at  the  Castle. 
They  had  fought  bitterly  against  the  unutterable 
sameness  and  weariness  of  Aldershot,  and  lo! 
they  were  not  altogether  satisfied  when  fate 
popped  them  down  in  the  prettiest  suburb  of 
Wharnecliffe ;  but  then,  as  some  one  or  other  very 
truly  remarks,  "  There  were  spirits  of  discontent 
even  in  Paradise." 

It  was  on  a  blithe  and  bonny  June  morning 
that  a  decided  spirit  of  discontent  entered  the 
anteroom  and  turned  over  the  papers  lying  on 
the  big  round  table. 

"Such  a   nuisance!"   he   exclaimed.      "We've 


8  WITH  THE  TWENTY-FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

got  aa  industrious  fit  on  again — no  more  leave. 
I  particularly  wanted  to  go  to  town  next  week." 

"  Did  you  say  so  ?"  asked  Lord  Archie  Falconer, 
with  a  laugh. 

"  Say  so,"  returned  the  other.  "  I  said  my 
mother  was  very  anxious  to  see  me,  being  very 
dangerously  ill." 

"  Yes." 

"  And  then  the  chief  asked  what  was  the  mat- 
ter with  her,  so  I  said  quinsy.  I  couldn't  think 
of  anything  else,  like  an  ass  as  I  am.  If  I'd  said 
consumption,  I  should  have  been  safe." 

Lord  Archie  rose  with  a  yawn  and  stretched 
himself.  "  Well,  Orford,  how  you  could  reason- 
ably expect  to  get  leave  on  the  strength  of  your 
mother  having  the  quinsy,  when  here's  her  name 
among  the  people  at  the  State  ball  last  night,  I 
don't  know.  You  should  try  my  plan,  and  go 
in  for  a  set  of  false  teeth ;  when  I  want  leave, 
I  just  break  a  front  one  off,  and  go  and  show 
the  chief — tell  him  I  must  have  leave  to  go 
and  see  my  dentist — and,  ac  a  matter  of  course, 
get  it." 

Orford  grinned  from  ear  to  ear,  showing  all 
his  white  and  even  teeth.  "There  are  disadvan- 
tages even  in  having  a  set  of  perfect  grinders," 


A  REGIMENTAL  M.P.  9 

he  said,  laughingly.  "  What  are  you  going  to  do 
to-day  ?" 

"  Going  to  dine  at  Moore  Park,"  Lord  Archie 
answered. 

"  Going  to  dine  at  Moore  Park  again  ?  AVell, 
you'll  be  nailed  at  Moore  Park  one  of  these  fine 
days,  take  my  word." 

" Not  I ;  ' mamma'  and  I  are  great  friends." 

"Yes,  Pve  no  doubt;  'mamma'  would  like  to 
be  '  mamma'  to  you  iu  reality,"  Orford  rejoined. 

"  Pooh  —  nonsense  !  Pm  no  such  wonderful 
fish  to  catch,  and  a  wife  couldn't  exactly  live  out 
of  being  called  Lady  Archie,  you  know,"  Lord 
Archie  declared.     "  Oh,  I'm  safe  enough." 

"No  fellow's  safe  when  a  girl  gets  frightfully 
gone  on  him,"  put  in  the  only  other  occupant  of 
the  anteroom,  with  a  sententious  air. 

"  She  isn't,"  asserted  Lord  Archie. 

"  Doesn't  she  call  you  Archie  ?" 

"I  don't  know, upon  my  word  ;  I  never  noticed." 

"  Take  notice  to-night,"  Urquhart  said,  wisely. 
"  Why,  man,  Pve  heard  her." 

"  Lord  Archie,  as  every  one  calls  me,"  suggested 
Lord  Archie. 

"  Archie^''  persisted  Urquhart,  obstinately. 

"  Ah !"  reflectively.     "  Well,  Pll  take  notice." 


10  WITH  THE   TWENTY-FIFTH   DRAGOONS. 

He  went  out  then,  leaving  Urquhart  and  Or- 
ford  together  in  the  anteroom.  Orford  turned 
the  papers  over  discontentedly. 

"  Oh,  the  devil !"  he  burst  out  at  length.  "  I 
must  do  something  to  relieve  the  everlasting  mo- 
notony of  this  dull  hole." 

"  Get  married,"  suggested  Urquhart. 

"  Get  married  ?" — contemptuously — then  leaned 
his  elbow  on  the  table,  and  cast  longing  eyes  up  at 
the  bright  blue  of  the  June  sky.  "  How  jolly 
town  must  be  looking  just  now.  The  park  never 
looks  so  pretty  as  it  does  this  month — flowers  all 
blooming,  pretty  girls  riding  or  driving,  or  walk- 
ing up  and  down.  Oh!  confound  it  all,  why  did 
I  go  into  the  Army,  I  wonder  ?" 

But  Urquhart,  who  had  many  resources  in  him- 
self, and  had  but  small  patience  with  this  kind  of 
dissatisfaction  and  grumbling,  had  gone  away  and 
left  him  to  chatter  with  the  four  walls,  of  which 
audience  Marcus  Orford  soon  grew  weary. 

It  was  very  late  when  Lord  Archie  returned 
from  Moore  Park  that  night — so  late  that  Urqu- 
hart was  already  gone  to  by-bye;  while  Orford, 
who  was  smoking  his  last  pipe,  was  sitting  on  the 
senior  captain's  cot,  having  strolled  in  to  borrow 
the  loan  of  a  belt  for  tlie  morrow. 


A  REGIMENTAL   M.P.  11 

"  There's  Archie  Falconer,"  he  said,  stopping  his 
chatter  to  hsten.  "  Yes,  I  thought  I  heard  his 
cart  just  now." 

Urquhart  raised  himself  on  his  elbow  and  ham- 
mered at  the  wall.  "  Halloo !"  cried  a  voice  from 
the  other  side  of  it. 

"  Did  she  call  you  Archie  ?"  Urquhart  demand- 
ed. 

"  Shut  up,"  was  the  answer. 

"  But  did  she  call  you  Archie  ?"  he  persisted. 

"  Never  mind,"  was  the  reply. 

"Draw  your  own  inference,"  laughed  Orford, 
getting  off  the  cot.     "  I'm  off  to  roost.     By-bye." 

"  Bj'-bye,"  responded  Urquhart,  with  a  laugh. 
He  hardly  gave  the  joke  another  thought,  and 
Marcus  Orford  appeared  in  the  mess-room  the  fol- 
lowing morning  in  such  good  -  humor  and  high 
spirits  that  no  one  would  ever  have  suspected  him 
of  having  suffered  the  torments  of  ennui  during 
the  whole  term  of  his  natural  life. 

"  What  devilment  is  Orford  up  to  now  ?"  asked 
Lord  Ai'chie  of  Urquhart,  next  to  whom  he  was 
sitting. 

"Heaven  knows,"  murmured  Urquhart  in  re- 
ply. Both  knew  their  man  well,  and  neither 
doubted  that  sure  enough  the  devilment  was  there. 


12  WITH   THE   TWENTY-FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

But  what  it  was  did  not  come  to  light  either  on 
that  day  or  the  next.  But  on  the  morning  follow- 
ing that,  when  Urquhart  and  Lord  Archie  went 
for  a  ride  after  breakfast,  and  before  morning  sta- 
bles, Marcus  Orford's  handiwork  proclaimed  itself 
on  every  wall  and  fence  and  boarding  in  and  for 
three  miles  around  the  good  city  of  Wharuecliffe 
— proclaimed  itself  in  great  flaming,  flaring  post- 
ers some  three  yards  long  by  two  feet  in  height, 
bearing  in  letters  a  foot  high  the  question — 

DID   SHE  CALL  YOU  ARCHIE? 

Urquhart  was  the  flrst  to  catch  sight  of  it. 

"  By  Jove,  Archie  !"  he  exclaimed ;  "  look  at 
that." 

"  Good  heavens !"  cried  Archie  Falconer,  blank- 
ly; then  looked  round  at  Urquhart  with  sudden 
intelligence  in  his  eyes.  "  It's  that  fiend,  Orford, 
and  oh,  by  Heaven,  won't  I  pay  him  out  for  this ; 
won't  I  ?" 

And  didn't  he?  Ton  haven't  heard  the  story  ? 
Then  I'll  tell  you. 

A  week  later  Marcus  Orford's  father,  old  Lord 
Ceespring,  went  for  hours  in  the  greatest  danger 
of  his  life,  for  he  was  a  corpulent  old  gentleman, 


A   REGIMEN'TAL   M.  P.  18 

who  had  lived  hard  and  fast,  and  married  the  pret- 
tiest girl  of  the  season  at  five-and-forty,  and  had 
gone  in  for  gourmandizing  and  politics  ever  since. 
Gourmandizing  at  all  times,  in  season  and  out  of 
season,  gout  or  no  gout,  apoplexv  or  no  apoplexy ; 
but  for  politics  in  a  dignified  manner,  and  on  what 
he  with  a  grand  air  termed  the  respectable  side 
of  the  House. 

Imagine,  then,  this  old  gentleman's  delight — he 
who  was  the  most  ultra,  extreme,  and  rabid  Con- 
servative perhaps  to  be  found  in  England  —  he 
who  was  of  the  bluest  of  the  blue  —  he  who  be- 
lieved in  the  divine  right  of  the  British  aristocra- 
cy, and  sneered  at  a  new  lord  as  he  would  have 
sneered  at  new  port  if  it  had  been  offered  to  him 
— imagine  his  delight  when  he  received  the  for- 
mal announcement  of  the  fact  that  his  son,  the 
Honorable  Marcus  Orford,  his  own  child,  the  heir 
to  the  title  of  which  he  was  the  sixteenth  baron 
who  had  borne  it,  had  consented  to  stand  in  the 
Liberal  interest  for  the  borough  of  Wharnecliffe 
at  the  forth-coming  election ;  not  only  so  to  stand, 
but  actually  in  opposition  to  a  scion  of  one  of 
the  most  prominent  Tory  houses  in  the  country. 
"Tut!  tut!  God  bless  my  soul!"— only  Lord 
Ceespriug  did  not  put  it  quite  so  delicately ;  in 


14  WITH  THE  TWENTY- FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

fact,  it  was  not  his  soul  at  all  that  he  called  in 
question,  but  his  visual  organs,  which  he  did  not 
exactly  bless — "  the  boy's  mad,  mad,  utterly  mad ; 
an  utter  lunatic.  Oh,  my  lady  !  my  lady !  what- 
ever can  you  and  I  have  done  that  our  son  should 
make  such  a  fool  of  himself  as  this  ?" 

"  What  has  he  done  ?  Not  married  some 
wretched  girl  ?"  cried  Lady  Ceespring,  in  alarm. 

"Married!"  contemptuously.  "Why,  he  might 
have  married  a  dozen  women  and  not  got  himself 
into  such  a  scrape  as  this.  Read  that,  my  lady ;" 
and  he  flung  a  newspaper  across  the  table  to  her, 
one  paragraph  of  which  was  ostentatiously  marked 
with  ink. 

"  We  understand  that  the  Hon.  Marcus  Orford, 
eldest  son  and  heir  of  Lord  Ceespring,  who  holds 
a  lieutenant's  commission  in  the  Black  Horse  (now 
quartered  at  Wharnecliffe),  has  consented  to  con- 
test the  city  in  the  Liberal  interest  at  the  forth- 
coming election. 

"  We  may  add  that  Mr.  Orford's  father  is  one 
of  the  most  prominent  Conservatives  in  the  Upper 
House." 

Poor  Lady  Ceespring,  who  was  lovely,  but  not 
strong-minded,  and  very  fond  of  her  boy,  began  to 
cry  weakly,  while  the  old  lord  fumed  and  fretted, 


A  REGIMENTAL  M.P.  15 

and  huni'd  and  liaw'd,  and  d — d  as  much  as  his 
manners  and  my  lady's  presence  wonld  allow  him, 
as  he  read  the  painful  and  elaborate  evidence  of 
his  son's  degeneration  and  mad  folly. 

" '  Gentlemen — ("  Gentlemen  —  bah !  snivelling 
fools,"  was  his  comment) — 

"'Having  been  honored  by  a  request  from  a 
number  of  the  inhabitants  of  your  ancient  and 
historically  famous  borough  to  offer  myself  as  a 
candidate  for  the  honor  of  representing  your  in- 
terests in  Parliament,  I  take  this  means  to  express 
my  satisfaction  and  pride  at  having  been  so  hon- 
ored by  you— ("young  f ool— ugh !")— and  I  hasten 
to  accept  so  flattering  a  request,  and  to  assure  you 
that  though  my  abilities  are  far  less  than  the  rep- 
resentative of  such  a  borough  as  yours  should  pos- 
sess, yet  I  am  confident-—' "  ("  Oh,  I  can't  wade 
through  all  this  blash — I'll  see  what  his  precious 
sentiments  are.") 

"  These  opinions — oh !  what  next? — '  Support  Mr. 
Gladstone  —  amelioration  of  the  people  —  break- 
ing down  of  class  distinction — ("  good  Lord !  what 
next?") — vote  for  «w?/ measures  tending  to  the  ulti- 
mate adoption  of  manhood  suffrage — ("oh!  he's 
mad,  quite  mad  I  I  shall  have  to  get  him  shut  up 
in  an  asylum.     I  see  nothing  else  for  it!").     Polit- 


16  WITH   THE   TWENTY- FIFTH   DRAGOONS. 

ical  power  should  be  wrested  from  property-hold- 
ers, who  have  already  annexed  everything  that  is 
worth  having.'"  And  here  Lord  Ceespring  sat 
back  in  his  chair  and  glared  at  the  huge  poster,  at 
last  crumpling  it  up  in  a  bunch  and  slapping  it  in 
the  acme  of  his  rage  and  fury. 

For  a  moment  he  seemed  as  if  he  was  going  to 
i-ead  no  more;  then  he  found  curiosity  getting  the 
better  of  him,  and  smoothed  it  out  again,  continu- 
ing his  task  heroically. 

" '  I  am  also  in  favor  of  the  nationalization  of 
the  land'" — this  made  him  speechless  for  quite 
two  minutes,  but  he  went  at  it  again,  determined 
to  be  brave  and  know  the  worst  —  "'disestablish- 
ment of  the  Church'" — ("oh  yes,  yes — that's  at 
the  root  of  it  all !").  Lord  Ceespring  himself  was 
as  wicked  an  old  sinner  as  ever  hid  his  face  in 
his  hat,  or  shouted  the  responses  for  the  benefit 
and  edification  of  his  tenants  and  laborers  —  but 
he  believed  in  Church  and  State  firmly  for  all 
that. 

" '  Deceased  Wife's  Sister  Bill — ("  yes,  yes,  that's 
not  so  bad  ") — reduction  of  the  Civil  List — ("  now 
what  the  devil  does  he  know  about  the  Civil  List, 
I  should  like  to  know?")  —  to  inquire  into  the 
amount  and  sources  of  E.oyal  incomes' — ("demmed 


A  REGIMENTAL  M.P.  17 

impertinence  /call  it,"  cried  Lord  Ceespring,  boil- 
ing over  again). 

"Well,  what  next?  Er  — ' susj^ension  of  all 
perpetual  pensions — for  the  payment  of  members 
of  Parliament'— ("yes, give  up  his  own  income  to 
let  the  butcher  and  the  baker  or  his  own  valet  set 
into  Parliament,"  in  an  excess  of  fnry). 

"  Well,  well,  what  next  %  Er— '  abandonment  of 
the  Soudan,  compensation  to  the  families  of  na- 
tives slaughtered  while  I'ightly  struggling  to  be  free 
—("er— mighty  fine  that  sounds,  you  young  fool !"). 

"'Withdraw  our  troops  from  Egypt  and  Af- 
ghanistan, and  solicit  the  friendship  of  Eussia 
and  France  especially— ("oh!  you  would,  would 
you  ?  Solicit  the  friendship  of  the  chief  physician 
of  Colney  Hatch  would  be  an  improvement,  I 
fancy  "). 

"'Independent  government  of  India  — Home 
Rule  for  Ireland  —  evacuate  Malta,  Cyprus,  and 
Gibraltar— ("  ah  !  Marcus  Orford,  you've  enjoyed 
independent  government  a  good  deal  too  long, 
I'm  thinking").  I  am,  gentlemen,  your  hum- 
ble and  obedient  servant '  ("  er— bah !  the  silliest 
and  demmedest  idiot  that  ever  drew  breath  or 
brought  disgrace  on  a  good  old  House  that  has 
held  its  head  up  with  the  best  of  the  land  for 


18  WITH  THE  TWENTY-FIFTH   DRAGOONS. 

twenty  generations  —  'humble  and  obedient' — • 
pall !  I  shall  go  and  fetch  him  away  at  once,  my 
lady,"  he  announced,  flinging  the  poster  from 
him, "  and  I  shall  take  Dr.  Marchmont  with  me. 
If  the  lad's  mad  we  must  get  him  quietly  put 
out  of  the  way  at  once;  but  I'm  afraid  —  I'm 
afraid  he's  not  mad,  only  bad  "). 

A  few  hours  later  the  old  lord  and  the  family 
doctor  arrived  at  Wharnecliffe,  where  on  every 
hand  they  were  met  by  copies  of  thq  flaring 
poster  which  had  nearly  been  the  death  of  the 
old  man  that  morning.  Still  in  many  places  were 
the  remains  of  Marcus  Orford's  joke—"  Did  she 
call  you  Archie?"  — and  in  all  these  cases  the 
address  to  the  electors  was  pasted  immediately 
above  them,  being  also  conspicuously  placed  else- 
where throughout  the  town. 

By  the  time  he  reached  the  barracks.  Lord  Cee- 
spring  had  got  into  a  perfect  white  heat  with 
suppressed  rage  and  fury.  Captain  Urquhart  was 
the  first  ofticer  whom  he  saw. 

"  Your  son  is  on  a  court-martial  this  morning," 
he  said,  pleasantly.     "He'll  be  in  soon." 

"  Ah  "  —  and  the  old  lord  looked  suspiciously 
round  the  anteroom —  "  you  haven't  got  one  of 
those  posters  up  here  ?"  he  said. 


A  REGIMENTAL  M.P.  19 

Urqnhart  laiiglied.  "No  — we  have  only  just 
heard  about  it.  Orford  is  going  to  be  finely 
roasted  when  he  comes  in." 

"Koasted!"  burst  out  the  old  man.  "Of  all 
the  demmed  fools  —  the  demmed  fools,  sir;  but 
I  shall  lock  him  up.  I've  brought  the  family 
doctor  down  with  me  —  Dr.  Marchmont,  gentle- 
men—and—oh, here  he  is !  Well,  and  pray  wliat 
have  you  got  to  say  for  yourself  ?" 

Marcus  Orford  looked  puzzled,  but  offered  the 
old  man  his  liand  ;  Lord  Ceespring  bi'usquely  re- 
jected it. 

"No,  sir;  shake  hands  with  your  demmed  de- 
molition people  — Church,  State,  land,  incomes, 
rights !  Dem  it  all,  sir,  why,  your  very  wife's 
sister  isn't  sacred  from  you." 

Marcus  Orford  looked  blankly  at  his  father,  at 
tlie  doctor,  at  his  brother-officers,  and  back  at  his 
father  again. 

"  What  are  you  talking  about  ?" 

"Talking  about?"  the  old  lord  almost  screamed 
in  his  rage;  "about  your  — your— "  And  here 
speech  failed  him,  so  he  dragged  the  now  tattered 
and  crumpled  poster  out  of  his  pocket,  and  wavino- 
it  in  his  son's  face  fairly  gobbled  with  excitement 
and  fury. 


20  WITH  THE  TWENTY-FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

Marcus  Orford  glanced  at  it,  saw  his  signature 
at  the  foot,  dropped  it  on  the  floor,  looked  round 
at  his  conii-ades,  and  caught  a  certain  wicked 
something  in  Archie  Falconer's  eyes. 

"You've  done  me  in  the  eye  this  time,  Archie," 
and  then  he  burst  out  laughing;  and  so  it  all 
came  out. 

But  they  never  forgot,  nor  let  him  forget,  how 
the  family  doctor  came  down  to  Wharnecliffe  for 
the  express  purpose  of  shutting  him  up  in  a  luna- 
tic asylum,  nor  how  he  was  paid  out  for  "  Did  she 
call  you  Archie  ?" 


PAID  OUT. 

Without  so  much  as  the  shadow  of  a  donbt,  the 
Honorable  Marcus  Orford  was,  if  his  mind  chanced 
to  be  bent  in  a  certain  direction,  a  very  ingenious 
young  gentleman ;  yet  when  it  came  to  him  to 
have  a  desire — a  desire  about  as  strono-  as  a  desire 
could  very  well  be — to  be  able  to  pay  Lord  Archie 
Falconer  out  for  having,  as  he  put  it,  "  done  him 
in  the  eye  "  in  the  matter  of  making  a  sort  of  Guy 
Fawkes  member  of  Parliament  of  him — not  only 
of  paying  him  out,  but  of  doing  so  in  an  adequate 
manner,  with  interest  at  something  more  than 
compound  rate — why,  he  was  simply  at  his  wit's 
end,  for  he  didn't  know  how  to  do  it.  The  more 
he  tried  to  hit  upon  a  plan  the  less  did  he  seem 
able  to  do  so;  and  all  the  time  he  had  the  daily, 
nay,  the  hourly,  aggravation  of  the  other's  constant 
presence  and  unmerciful  chaff — the  aggravation  of 
never  being  able  to  lift  his  eyes  or  to  turn  his  head, 
to  open  his  mouth,  or  even  to  take  refuge  behind  a 
newspaper,  without  a  fire  of  chaff  from  his  exultant 
comrade. 


98  WITH  THE   TWENTY-FIFTH   DRAGOONS. 

"  There's  Bobblekins  taking  his  morning  dose  of 
politics  again  " — and  Lord  Archie  had  a  singularly 
clear  and  penetrating  voice,  so  that  whatever  Babel 
of  chatter  and  cliaff  might  be  going  on  at  the  time, 
and  it  happened  that  the  whole  length  of  the  long 
mess-table  lay  between  them,  Marcus  Orford  never 
missed  a  single  word  that  fell  from  the  other's  lips. 

"  Bobblekins  is  trying  to  think  how  he  can  pay 
me  out,"  Lord  Archie  laughed,  one  dull  and  dreary 
afternoon,  when  Orford  had. come  in  tired  and  stiff 
from  a  day  with  the  Castle  hounds,  and  was  iu 
very  truth  scarcely  thinking  of  anything,  "  and  he 
can't  manage  it." 

"All  things  come  to  him  who  can  afford  to 
wait,"  quoted  Orford,  coolly. 

"  I  say,  fancy  old  Bobblekins  going  in  for  quota- 
tions," Lord  Archie  cried.     "  What  is  that  from  ?" 

"  It  was  what  Balaam  said  to  the  ass,"  answered 
Orford,  promptl}^,  "  and  the  ass  said — " 

"  Go  up,  thou  baldhead,"  put  in  Lord  Archie, 
amid  a  yell  of  laughter  from  all  the  others  in  the 
room ;  for  Orford,  though  young  and  comely,  al- 
ready showed  a  decided  tendency  to  grow  a  fore- 
head at  the  back  of  his  head. 

"  Oh  no,  he  didn't !  He  said, '  Am  I  not  thine 
ass?'"  and  having  delivered  this  shot,  Marcus'  Or- 


PAID  OUT.  38 

ford  took  refuge  behind  the  outspread  leaves  of 
the  first  paper  that  came  to  hand. 

It  chanced  to  be  one  chiefly  devoted  to  mat- 
ters generally  considered  more  interesting  to  the 
ladies  than  to  the  rougher  sex — a  paper  not  very 
often  seen  in  the  anteroom  of  the  Wharnecliffe 
Barracks,  and  only  there  on  that  occasion  because 
it  contained  an  account  of  a  fancy  ball  at  which 
several  officers  of  the  regiment  had  been  present. 

Marcus  Orford  read  on  mechanically  at  the  page 
where  the  paper  had  opened  itself.  But  he  read 
on  in  something  like  bewilderment  and  wonder, 
and  things  came  to  his  knowledge  the  like  of  which 
he  had  never  dreamed  of  before.  He  read  of  false 
diamonds  and  false  curls — ay,  not  only  false  curls, 
but  coverings  for  thin  partings  and  bald  patches — 
of  fashionable  fringes  and  curly  crops  to  cover  all 
the  head  ;  he  read  of  "  thin  busts  perf ected "-^er- 
fected!  he  repeated  to  himself,  in  disgust  —  of 
sunny  rays  for  golden  hair;  and  at  least  a  dozen 
washes  for  turning  the  blackest  locks  to  the  fairest 
flaxen  tint  in  a  single  application.  He  read,  and 
it  fairly  made  his  flesh  creep,  of  skin-tighteners 
and  lip  salves ;  and  then  all  at  once  he  came  to  a 
little  picture  of  a  very  stout  lady  and  a  very  slim 
and  elegant  young  girl,  supposed  to  be  the  same 


24  WITH  THE  TWENTY-FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

before  and  after  taking  anti-fat.  And  the  next  to 
that  seemed  to  him  to  be  the  worst  and  the  most 
absohitely  depraved  of  the  whole  lot.  It  was 
called 

"  ORANGE-BLOOM  BOUQUET." 

It  set  forth  in  glowing  terms — such  as  a  honse- 
agent  uses  when  he  wants  to  persuade  a  credulous 
public  that  a  stuffy  little  box  with  eleven  tiny  com- 
partments is  a  desirable  and  commodious  family 
residence,  witli  all  the  most  recent  modern  con- 
veniences and  sanitary  improvements  —  that  its 
properties  were  to  impart  a  rich  and  healthful 
bloom  to  the  complexion,  being  impossible  for  the 
keenest  scrutiny  to  detect,  even  with  the  use  of  the 
microscope.     '"'■It  will  not  wash  off !'''' 

Marcus  Orford  closed  his  eyes  and  let  the  paper 
fall  upon  his  knee — "  it  will  not  wash  of.''''  His 
breath  came  fast  and  hard,  his  heart  beat  and 
throbbed  in  great  furious  thumps,  the  blood  surged 
to  and  fro  in  his  veins — "  it  will  not  wash  offP 

At  last  he- got  up  and  went  quietly  and  with  a 
great  show  of  weariness  out  of  the  room,  still  hold- 
ing the  paper  in  his  hand.  Then  at  the  door  he 
turned  back,  and  going  to  the  desk,  which  chanced 
at  that  moment  to  be  vacant,  wrote  down  the  ad- 


PAID  OUT.  25 

dress  of  the  house  which  sold  the  new  preparation, 
and  underneath  it  the  figures  7^.  6d. 

Tliis  he  carefully  folded  and  put  in  his  pocket, 
and  then  leaving  the  paper  upon  the  desk  he  took 
himself  away  to  perfect  his  plans  and  gloat  over 
his  new  discovery  in  solitude. 

lie  did  not  gloat  very  long,  for  his  whole  soul 
thirsted  for  action.  He  shouted  vigorously  for  his 
servant,  and  bade  him  secure  him  a  cab  and  then 
get  him  some  clothes  out — "  Yes,  the  gray  will  do." 
Then  he  wrote  a  letter,  which  he  turned  address 
down  upon  the  blotting  pad,  carefully  committing 
the  sheet  of  paper  he  had  brought  from  the  ante- 
room to  the  flames  of  the  fire,  which  was  roaring 
and  blazing  half-way  up  the  chimney.  It  is  true 
that  he  was  wofuUy  stiff  and  weary,  yet  he 
dressed  in  next  to  no  time ;  and  having  pocketed 
the  precious  letter,  he  took  himself  out  to  the  cab, 
which  had  been  waiting  some  ten  minutes  at  the 
door  below,  as  gayly  and  unconcernedly  as  if  he 
had  never  been  tired  out  by  a  hard  day  with  the 
hounds  in  the  whole  course  of  his  life. 

A  drive  of  ten  minutes  brought  hini  to  the  Post- 
office,  where  he  procured  an  order  for  seven-and- 
sixpence,  after  which  the  letter  was  safely  dropped 
into  the  box.    Marcus  Orford  breathed  freely,  with 


26 


WITH   THE   TWENTY-FIFTH   DRAGOONS. 


a  feeling  that  his  plot  had  already  begun  to  mature 

itself. 

But  he  must  dissemble.  Archie  Falconer  must 
not  guess  this  time  that  anything  out  of  the  com- 
mon was  in  the  wind  or  in  Marcus  Orford's  brain. 
It  was  a  distinct  effort  to  him  to  do  it,  but  he 
contrived  that  evening  to  go  to  mess  with  such  a 
truly  dejected  air  that  even  Archie  Falconer  for- 
bore to  chaff  him,  and  beyond  a  murmured  remark 
to  his  next  neighbor,  that  really  poor  old  Balaain 
seemed  to  be  taking  his  defeat  or  his  lack  of  con- 
structive ingenuity  to  heart,  he  never  once  during 
the  entire  evening  approached  the  subject  of  the 
great  assembly  which  constitutes  the  legislature  of 
this  kingdom. 

In  due  course  of  time  Marcus  Orford  received, 
"carefully  secured  from  observation"  as  the  ad- 
vertisement promised,  the  "  Orange  ■  bloom  Bou- 
quet'' In  the  privacy  of  his  own  quarters  he 
opened  it,  to  find  that  it  contained  a  small  bottle  of 
vivid  crimson  fluid,  and  a  paper  of  closely-printed 
instructions  for  the  use  of  the  "Bloom."  Marcus 
Orford  pulled  up  his  sleeve  and  proceeded  to  try 
the  effect  of  it  upon  the  upper  part  of  his  arm- 
first  he  got  a  tiny  camelVhair  brush  and  painted 
a  small  patch  of  it,  allowed  it  to  dry  on,  applied 


PAID  OUT.  27 

sponge  and  soap,  with  the  result  of  washing  it  all 
off.  His  month  went  dismally  down — till  he  all 
at  once  remembered  that  he  had  not  even  looked 
at  the  instructions ;  therefore  he  at  once  proceeded 
to  study  them  carefully.  "  Take  a  little  strong 
salt-and-water  and  bathe  the  cheeks  with  it — this 
will  strike  the  color'*'' — "Hurray!"  said  he  to  him- 
self or  the  four  walls — "  then  apply  the  stain  and 
allow  it  to  dry  on,  immediately  afterwards  wash- 
ing it  off  with  tepid  water,  when  an  exquisitely 
lovely  and  natural-looking  bloom  will  permanently 
remain."  "  Permanently  remain  P''  chuckled  the 
Honorable  Marcus,  in  an  ecstasy  of  anticipation 
— "  when  an  exquisitely  lovely  and  natural-looking 
bloom  will  permanently  remain." 

It  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  that  day  was 
the  longest  Marcus  Orford  had  ever  known  in  his 
life;  the  minutes  slowly  and  leisurely  dragged 
themselves  away,  and  the  hours  seemed  as  if  each 
needed  a  kick  to  make  it  follow  the  one  which  had 
unw^illiiigly  gone  before  it.  He  got  through  morn- 
ing stables,  some  business  in  the  office,  went  and 
saw  one  of  his  troop  who  was  lying  sick  in  hospi- 
tal, dragged  through  lunch,  a  game  of  billiards,  af- 
ternoon parade,  two  afternoon  teas,  and  a  long 
talk  to  the  smartest  and  prettiest  girl  in  Wharne- 


38  WITH   THE   TWENTY- FIFTH   DRAGOONS. 

cliffe,  whom  he  met  at  the  corner  of  the  High 
Street.  He  went  and  bought  himself  some  gloves 
and  some  cotton  ties— nay,  he  even  had  his  hair 
cut  that  he  might  not  get  back  to  barracks  too 
soon,  and  so  have  any  time  to  kill  before  dinner. 

And  on  liis  way  back  he  went  into  a  chemist's, 
and  bought  a  little  bottle  of  chloroform!  Oh, 
Marcus  Orford  !  Marcus  Orford  ! 

Ay,  and  he  used  it,  too.  He  waited  in  patience 
till  the  whole  corridor  which  ran  along  the  entire 
block  of  the  officers'  quarters  was  quiet  and  de- 
serted, and  then  he  went  stealthily  and  noiselessly, 
like  a  burglar  or  a  cat,  and  turned  the  handle  of 
Lord  Archie's  door.  As  he  expected,  it  yielded  to 
his  touch,  and  the  door  opened  to  him. 

"  Archie !"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice,  but  there  was 
not  a  sound  ;  all  was  as  quiet  as  the  grave  or  a 
Chinese  city  of  the  dead. 

"  Archie !"  he  said  agahi,  louder  this  time ;  "  I 

say,  Archie !" 

But  Lord  Archie  did  not  answer,  though  the 
stillness  of  the  midnight  hour  was  broken  by  the 
regular  and  deep  breathing  of  a  man  buried  in  an 
absolutely  sound  and  dreamless  sleep. 

Finding  that  this  was  so,  Marcus  Orford  closed 
the  door  softly  behind  him,  and  advanced  to  the 


PAID  OUT.  29 

side  of  the  cot.  A  tall  waxen  candle  in  a  ffro- 
tesquelj- moulded  brass  candlestick  stood  on  the 
little  table  beside  it ;  beside  that  a  box  of  matches. 
He  struck  one  gently  and  lighted  the  candle,  set- 
ting it  so  that  the  light  did  not  fall  upon  Lord 
Archie's  face. 

Then  he  took  the  tiny  Ijottle  of  chloroform  from 
his  pocket  and  sprinkled  a  little  of  it  upon  a  hand- 
kerchief, which  he  held  to  the  nostrils  of  the  sleep- 
ing man.  As  the  damp  cloth  touched  his  face 
Lord  Archie  stirred  uneasily  and  moved  his  arm. 
Then  the  powerful  anaisthetic  began  to  take  effect 
upon  him,  and  finding  that  a  good  shake  was  not 
sufficient  to  arouse  him,  Marcus  Orford  proceeded 
to  business.  He  had  brought  with  him  a  sponge 
tilled  with  a  strong  solution  of  sal t-and- water,  and 
with  this  he  carefully  dabbed  Lord  Archie's  hand- 
some aquiline  nose ;  then  he  got  out  his  brush  and 
his  bottle  of  "  Bloom,"  and  with  equal  care  painted 
that  feature  all  over.  It  did  not  take  long  to  dry, 
and  when  he  saw  that  state  had  been  arrived  at  he 
produced  another  sponge  and  carefully  washed  it, 
drying  it  cautiously  and  gingerly  with  a  clean  silk 
handkerchief.  This  done,  he  blew  out  the  light 
and  crept  away  with  all  his  paraphernalia  and  a 
safe   conscience,  for  he   knew  that  he  had  only 


30  WITH   THE  TWENTY- FIFTH   DRAGOONS. 

given  Lord  Archie  enough  chloroform  to  stupefy 
him,  and  not  sufficient  to  do  him  the  slightest 
harm. 

Of  the  two  he  was  the  first  to  appear  in  the 
mess-room  the  following  morning;  but  he  had 
barely  begun  breakfast  ere  Lord  Archie  came  in 
with  a  rush  and  a  whirl  and  a  gay,  pleasant  word 
for  every  one. 

"  Well,  Balaam,  old  man,"  was  his  greeting  to 
Orford. 

"  Well,  mine  ass,"  returned  Orford,  pleasantly. 
He  almost  betrayed  himself  by  his  first  glance  at 
Lord  Archie  —  for  sure  enough  the  permanent 
bloom,  which  would  not  wash  ofP,  had  imparted  a 
painfully  natural  redness  to  his  noble  nose. 

Lord  Archie  apparently  had  noticed  nothing. 
He  ordered  his  breakfast  and  took  his  place  as  un- 
concernedly as  he  could  not  possibly  have  done 
had  he  noticed  the  change,  or  rather  partial 
change,  of  his  complexion. 

Not  so  the  others,  however — trust  a  handful  of 
officers  scrutinizing  one  another  to  be  as  careless  or 
little  observant  as  any  one  of  them  regarding  his 
own  countenance  in  a  glass.  So  in  this  instance, 
before  Lord  Archie  had  been  two  minutes  at  the 
table,  Strange  cast  a  keen  glance  at  him,  and  re- 


PAID  OUT.  31 

marked,  "What  a  red  nose  you've  got  this  morn- 
ing, Archie !" 

"  A  red  nose  !  /f "  repeated  Archie,  blankly, 
putting  up  a  hand  to  feel  that  organ  instantly. 

"Yes,  you— it's  as  red  as  beetroot,"  Strange  de- 
clared, positively. 

"  When  is  a  nose  not  a  nose  ?"  asked  Elliot. 

"When  it's  a  little  reddish,"  raising  a  shout  of 
laughter,  in  which  Orford  joined  as  loudly  and  as 
boisterously  as  any  of  them. 

"  I  noticed  it  some  time  ago,"  put  in  Macken- 
zie ;  "  it's  been  gradually  getting  worse  for  the  last 
month  or  two." 

"  The  devil  it  has,"  said  Archie  Falconer,  in 
dire  dismay,  then  got  up  and  went  to  the  great 
glass  above  the  mantel-shelf  to  see  if  it  was  really 
true  or  they  were  only  chatfing  him. 

But  it  was,  alas!  only  too  true  —  painfully 
true;  and  though  Marcus  Orford  nearly  choked 
with  laughter,  which  was  manfully  suppressed, Lord 
Archie  discovered  nothing,  but  came  dejectedly 
back  to  the  table,  and  surveyed  his  comrades 
mournfully. 

"  I  don't  drink,"  he  said,  at  length.  "  I  drink 
less  by  far  than  any  man  in  the  regiment.  I  don't 
smoke  much;  it  must  be  my  digestion,  and  if  that 


32  WITH  THE  TWENTY- FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

once  gets  out  of  order,  it  plaj's  the  very  deuce  and 
all  with  one's  constitution  all  round." 

"  I  shouldn't  at  all  wonder,"  Strange  observed. 
"Have  you  had  any  other  symptoms,  Archie?" 

"  I'd  a  beastly  dream  last  night,"  answered  the 
victim,  innocently ;  "  dreamt  I  was  being  smoth- 
ered, and  woke  up  shaking  all  over." 

"What  time  was  it?  Did  you  look?"  asked 
young  Eden. 

"  Yes,  it  was  ten  minutes  to  two.  I  struck  a 
liglit  to  see,"  Lord  Archie  replied. 

Again  Marcus  Oi-ford's  inner  man  was  shaken 
by  convulsions  of  laughter,  but  he  contrived  to 
hide  it  all,  and  so  the  pretty  play  was  played  on. 

The  doctor  told  Lord  Archie  that  his  diorestive 
oi-gans  were  entirely  out  of  order,  and  promptly 
put  him  upon  a  diet  and  a  course  of  restriction 
such  as  simi)ly  made  life  a  burden  to  him,  and 
had  worse  than  no  effect  upon  the  complexion  of 
his  nose. 

For  the  nose  gradually  but  surely  got  worse  ; 
the  exquisitely  lovely  and  natural  -  looking  bloom 
deepened  visibly  in  tint,  and  Lord  Archie's  wretch- 
edness deepened  in  proportion — rather  beyond  pro- 
portion for  the  matter  of  that. 

"  Here's  poor  old  Archie  and  his  nose !"  came  to 


PAID   OUT.  33 

be  the  usual  remark  wlien  the  victim  made  his  ap- 
pearance among  liis  fellows. 

And, "  Well,  Archie,  how's  your  poor  nose  ?"  was 
the  general  salute  he  met  with. 

He  was  not  touchy  nor  yet  proud,  this  noble 
lord  of  the  house  of  Falconhurst,  and  at  any  mo- 
ment he  was  ready  and  willing  to  dilate  upon  the  in- 
firmity which  had  become  a  serious  trouble  to  him. 

"AVhy  don't  you  try  change  of  air?"  the  doctor 
asked  him  one  day,  perhaps  a  little  impatiently. 

"Oh,  I'm  not  going  among  my  people  such  an 
object  as  this,"  he  answered,  dejectedly.  "  Why, 
dash  it,  my  old  grandmother  would  be  imploring 
me  to  join  the  Blue  Ribbon  Army." 

The  doctor  laughed,  and  Lord  Archie  continued. 

"  It's  one  of  the  things  nobody  ever  believes  one 
about.  Who  in  the  barracks  really  believes  that, 
as  a  matter  of  absolute  fact,  drink  is  not  the  cause 
of  it?" 

"  Well,  I  don't  for  one,  Archie,"  Orford  declared, 
heartily. 

"Don't  you  really,  Marcus?" — eagerly.  "By 
Jove !  you're  a  right  down  good  fellow,  and  I'm 
sorry  I  ever  played  you  that  trick  about  the  elec- 
tion business — ^'pon  my  soul  I  am  now." 

"  Oh,  come,  come,  old  man !"  Marcus  answered, 

3 


34  WITH   THE   TWENTY-FIFTH   DRAGOONS. 

bursting  with  laughter,  yet  preserving  his  outward 
cahnness  excellently  well,  "don't  take  that  tone. 
You're  not  going  to  depart  this  life;  and  as  to 
your  nose,  why  /should  say  if  you  persist  in  going 
in  for  the  smallest  waist  in  the  regiment,  and  go 
to  a  tailor  who  straps  you  in  as  tightly  as  you  can 
breathe,  with  a  machine  and  a  couple  of  men  to 
work  it,  and  then  measures  you  for  your  overalls 
and  tunics,  why  how  can  you  expect  to  have  any- 
thing but  a  red  nose  ?" 

Lord  Archie  looked  suddenly  enlightened. 

"  Do  you  think  that  could  be  it  ?"  he  asked  of 
the  doctor. 

"  It's  not  at  all  improbable,"  answered  the  doc- 
tor, with  a  sweet  air  of  evasion  which  is  common 
to  the  profession  at  large. 

"  I'll  have  all  my  uniforms  let  out  at  once,"  the 
wretched  victim  declared,  whereat  Marcus  Orford 
laughed  out  aloud — he  couldn't  help  it  for  the 
very  life  of  him — as  if  it  was  the  very  finest  joke 
ever  he  had  heard  in  all  his  life. 

"  Ah  !  you  may  laugh ;  your  nose  is  a  decent 
color,"  the  victim  cried.  "  I  too  might  laugh  if  it 
was  anybody's  nose  but  my  own.  I  got  an  idea 
this  morning.  I  don't  know  whether  it's  any  good 
or  not,"  dejectedly. 


PAID  OUT.  36 

"What  is  it?" 

"  "Well,"  hesitatingly,  "  I  saw  an  advertisement 
from  a  chap  who  does  a  good  deal  in  the  appear- 
ance line — fills  up  wrinkles  and  tightens  skins  that 
have  got  baggy.  He  says  he  can  cure  red  noses, 
but  as  his  advertisement  adds,  'you  must  pay' — 
not  that  any  cost  would  matter,"  with  a  great  sigh. 

And  that  night  the  nose  got  redder,  but  unfort- 
unately, in  the  middle  of  the  operation,  Lord 
Archie  moved  suddenly,  which  made  Orford  give 
a  great  start,  and  caused  him  to  drop  the  bottle. 

It  was  tlie  work  of  a  moment  to  catch  it  up,  but 
the  mischief  was  done — a  great  crimson  stain  was 
cast  over  the  bedclothes,  along  the  sleeve  of  Lord 
Archie's  night-shirt,  and  on  the  arm  beneath  it,  and 
one  great  splash  had  spurted  across  his  breast  and 
across  his  throat.  He  was  so  evidently  awaking 
that  Orford  blew  the  light  out  and  bolted,  and 
then  Lord  Archie,  awaking  to  smell  the  smoulder- 
ing wick  of  tlie  barely  extinguished  candle,  roused 
himself  and  struck  a  light,  felt  that  his  sleeve  was 
wet,  and — "  Well,"  as  he  said  in  the  morning  to 
Orford, "  you  brute,  and  you  for  one  didn't  believe 
that  it  came  from  drink." 

"But  I  paid  you  out  that  time,  Archie,"  an- 
swered Orford,  dodging  a  forage-cap. 


THE  MEM -SAHIB'S  PROMISE. 

It  was  on  a  brilliant  January  day,  towards  the 
close  of  the  afternoon,  that  Thomas  Urqnliart, 
Captain  of  the  Black  Horse,  pushed  a  big  chair 
up  to  the  fire  in  the  anteroom,  and  sat  down 
therein  to  enjoy  The  Naval  and  Militarxj  Ga- 
zette, which  had  just  arrived.  He  had  the  room 
to  himself,  for  the  entire  regiment  seemed  to  have 
gone  mad  over  the  superb  skating  which  the  con- 
tinuous frost  afforded  the  inhabitants  of  Wharne- 
cliflFe. 

There  were  one  or  two  exceptions,  however; 
the  orderly  ofiicer  for  the  day  was  lying  on  his 
cot,  reading  one  of  Whyte-Melville's  novels,  and 
smoking  the  first  lazy  pipe  of  the  fourteen  hours 
of  wearying  and  tedious  work  which  constitutes 
the  time  known  as  being  on  duty;  and  before 
Urquhart  twice  turned  a  leaf,  the  door  opened 
and  the  colonel  entered  the  room. 

"  All  alone,  Urquhart  ?"  he  remarked,  cheerily. 

"All  alone,  sir — cursing  my  fate  a  little  that 
last  month's  sprain  won't  let  me  think  of  the  cas- 


THE  MEM-SAHIB'S  PROMISE.  37 

tie  mere,  outside  edges,  spread-eagles,  and  the 
like." 

"  Not  ranch  spread-eagle  about  your  form,"  the 
chief  said,  with  a  laugh  ;  then  asked,  as  he  settled 
jiimself  comfortably,  with  his  back  to  the  chiraney- 
shelf, "any  news?" 

"Nothing  in  particular,"  Urquhart  replied,  of- 
fering him  the  paper  as  he  spoke.  The  chief, 
liowever,  declined  it  with  a  wave  of  his  hand  and 
a  murmur  of  thanks,  and  then  Urquhart  spoke 
again. 

"By-the-bye,  sir,  have  I  not  heard  yon  speak  of 
having  been  in  the  regiment  with  Sir  John  Far- 
quhar  ?" 

"  Certainly — to  be  sure  I  was,  two  years  or  more 
— what  about  him  ?" 

"  He's  dead  —  that's  all,"  answered  Urquhart, 
simply. 

"  Dead !  Ah  !  Poor  Jack  Farquhar !  A  bet- 
ter fellow  and  a  braver  officer  never  drew  breath," 
the  colonel  said,  sadly.  "  So  he's  gone  at  last,  after 
one-and-twenty  years  of  it — poor  Jack!" 

"  One-and-twenty  years  of  what, sir?"  Urquhart 
asked,  curious  to  know  the  meaning  of  his  chief's 
tone. 

"  Of  misery,  Urquhart,  misery.     Ah,  poor  Jack ! 


88  WITH  THE  TWENTY-FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

I  never  like  to  think  of  him — never!  I  remem- 
ber when  I  joined  he  was  the  very  life  and  spirit 
of  the  old  Black  Horse — full  of  fan  and  play  as 
a  kitten  four  months  old  or  a  monkey  that  has 
never  felt  cold  weather.  But  a  cruel  blight  fell 
on  him  in  '57,  and  Jack  never  held  up  his  head 
after.     Poor  Jack !" 

"And  how, sir?"  Urquhart  inquired. 

"I'll  tell  you,"  said  the  colonel.  "Jack  was 
just  seven-and-twenty  when  I  joined.  He  wasn't 
a  baronet,  nor  had  he  any  hopes  of  ever  being 
one  then,  but  was  just  Jack  Farquhar,  with  a 
modest  income  of  six  hundred  a  year  over  and 
above  his  pay.  Well,  I  hadn't  been  two  months 
in  the  regiment,  and  we  were  just  off  to  India 
then,  when  Jack  fell  in  love  —  not  only  in  love, 
but  with  the  youngest  and  loveliest  daughter  of 
old  Lord  Saturn,  who  was,  just  as  his  son  is  after 
him,  one  of  the  proudest  and  haughtiest  men  in 
England  or  out  of  it. 

"  Jack  knew  well  enough  that  if  he,  with  only 
his  handsome  face  and  his  modest  six  hundred  a 
year  to  recommend  him,  were  to  go  to  old  Lord 
Saturn  and  ask  for  the  hand  of  the  Lady  Marjory 
Starshine  in  marriage  —  Lady  Marjory,  who  was 
just  sixteen,  and  destined  to  become  a  court  beau- 


THE   MEM-SAHIB'S  PROMISE.  39 

ty — he  would  be  declined  with  thanks  and  po- 
litely shown  the  exact  position  of  tho  d?or.  while 
measures  would  be  taken  effectually  to  secure  the 
lady  from  any  further  communication  with  him ; 
and,  as  he  didn't  see  the  good  of  such  an  arrange- 
ment—  to  himself,  at  least  —  he  just  persuaded 
Lady  Marjory  to  run  away  with  him. 

"I  don't  think  she  needed  very  much  persua- 
sion, for  Jack  was  an  amazingly  handsome  fello.w, 
and  she  was  desperately  fond  of  him.  Anyhow, 
run  away  they  did,  and  managed  to  get  safely  and 
legally  tied  up  and  made  man  and  wife. 

"  The  Saturns  were  furious ;  but  since  all  the 
blustering  and  fuss  in  the  world  cannot  undo  what 
the  marriage  ceremony  has  accomplished,  they 
contented  themselves  with  blotting  Lady  Mtirjory's 
name  out  of  the  family  tree,  and  blotting  her  once 
and  forever  out  of  the  list  of  their  acquaintances. 

"But  Lady  Marjory  and  Jack  didn't  care,  not 
a  button ;  Lady  Marjory  had  been  brought  up 
by  servants  and  governesses,  almost  a  stranger  to 
her  parents  and  her  elder  sisters,  who  were  all 
considerably  older  than  herself,  and  had  married 
very  early  to  become  such  very  great  ladies  as 
scarcely  to  know  the  young  sister  in  the  nursery, 
even  by  sight. 


40  WITH  THE   TWENTY-FIFTH   DRAGOONS. 

"And, as  I  said, she  and  Jack  didn't  care;  slie 
laughed  wlien  she  heard  her  name  had  been 
blotted  out  of  the  family  tree ;  and  a  few  weeks 
later  we  sailed  for  Indin, 

"  Wo  went  round  the  Cape,  but  Lady  Marjory 
and  Jack  Farquhar  never  seemed  to  find  the  voy- 
age in  the  smallest  degree  tedious  or  irksome. 
Whenever  Jack  had  nothing  to  do— and  on  board 
ship  that  was  pretty  often— they  used  to  get  away 
into  a  corner  together,  and  sit  in  the  most  blessed 
unconsciousness  that  they  ever  so  much  as  raised 
a  smile  or  caused  a  single  thought  of  amusement. 
If  they  had  known  it,  I  believe  she  would  have 
laughed  more  heartily  than  any  of  them,  for  she 
was  a  merry  little  soul,  and  loved  a  joke  dearly. 

"Her  absolute  faith  in  Jack  was  wonderful; 
she  believed  him  capable  of  doing  any  mortal 
thing  better  than  any  other  human  being  under 
the  sun.  Sometimes  the  fellows  used  to  try  and 
tell  yarns  too  wonderful  to  be  surpassed,  and  her 
great  blue  eyes  would  open  M'ide  with  the  sur- 
prised and  incredulous  stare  of  a  child  who  hears 
of  some  marvellous  fact  for  tlie  first  time,  with 
never  a  doubt  of  its  being  as  true  as  gospel.  But 
it  was  always  the  same  in  the  end;  when  the 
wonderful  yarn  came  to  a  close,  she  always  pulled 


THE  MEM-SAHIB'S  PROMISE.  41 

herself  together  and  made  answer, '  Oh,  that's  noth- 
iyig  to  what  Jack  did ;  he  shot  a  bear,  or  a  tiger,' 
or  perliaps  what  then  was  a  fabulous  number  of 
partridges.  Once,  I  remember,  they  tried,  some 
of  the  mischievous  youngsters,  to  trap  her  by  a 
long  yarn  about  a  fox,  but  faith  was  always  too 
much  for  them,  and  so  that  time  also. 

"  '  Took  you  three  hours  to  shoot  a  fox  V  she 
commented,  scornfully;  'why  Jack  would  have 
eaten  it  in  that  time.'  Poor  little  soul,  it  was  a 
nice  point  for  some  time  whether  she  was  not  to 
be  caught  by  the  assertion  that  they  had  shot 
a  fox  or  whether  it  was  mere  accident  which 
saved  Jack  from  being  credited  on  his  wife's  evi- 
dence with  that  unpunishable  but  unpardonable 
crime. 

"Well,  we  landed  at  last,  and  went  up-country 
to  Muttrapore,  where  we  settled  down,  and  where 
by -and -by  Jack  and  Lady  Marjory  had  a  child 
born  to  them.  A  girl  it  was — a  pretty  little  thing 
as  babies  go — just  like  her,  with  big  blue  eyes  and 
a  lot  of  flaxen  fluff  on  its  head.  'Pon  my  word, 
to  see  that  pretty  young  thing  strutting  about  with 
her  baby  in  her  arms — she  scarcely  more  than  a 
babe  herself — calling  one's  attention  to  the  length 
of  its  eyelashes  and  the  closeness  of  its  grasp,  or 


42  WITH   THE   TWENTY-FIFTH   DRAGOONS. 

bidding  one  declare  it  was  tlie  living  image  of 
Jack,  when  the  little  soul's  own  face  was  repro- 
duced with  a  fidelity  which  was  perfectly  ludicrous. 

"  So  the  months  passed  over  and  the  new  year 
came  in — the  year  of  '57,  so  eventful  in  the  an- 
nals of  India,  so  long  to  be  remembered  by  the 
British  people.  There  were  signs  of  the  coming 
storm  even  then,  symptoms  of  dissatisfaction  and 
discontent,  murmurings  of  fanatical  hatred. 

"At  Muttrapore  there  was  a  big  native  garri- 
son, but  they  were  quartered  quite  on  the  other 
side  of  the  town  to  the  Black  Horse.  Our  bar- 
racks and  bungalows  all  lay  on  the  highest  ground, 
most  of  the  officers  living  pretty  close  to  the  bar- 
racks. 

"  Only  two  were  at  any  distance,  and  these  were 
the  bungalows  of  the  doctor,  old  Fitzgerald — you 
remember  him — and  the  Farquhars. 

"  The  Farquhars'  was  the  farthest  away,  being 
two  miles  at  least  from  any  house  but  the  doctor's, 
and  was,  in  fact,  about  equidistant  from  the  cav- 
alry barracks  and  the  native  lines. 

"I  remember  when  the  news  came  that  the 
Mutiny  had  really  broken  out  at  Meerut,  that  the 
trouble  which  had  been  smouldering  so  long  had 
burst   into   the   fiercest   flames.      Nobody  talked 


THE  MEM-SAHIB'S  PROMISE.  43 

very  much  about  it,  but  men  looked  at  one  an- 
other, and  the  faces  of  the  women  grew  white 
and  anxious,  though  they  kept  very  quiet  and 
silent  over  it.  Only  little  Lady  Marjory  seemed 
to  have  no  fear — none  at  all. 

"'If  we  were  in  a  native  regiment,' she  ex- 
plained one  evening  when  one  of  the  other  ladies 
remarked  how  brave  and  gay  she  was  — 'if  we 
were  in  a  native  regiment  I  should  give  myself 
up  for  lost  at  once ;  but  here  in  the  midst  of  the 
Black  Horse  I  feel  as  safe  as  if  I  were  in  the 
Tower  of  London.' 

"  '  And  you  three  miles  from  the  British  lines  V 
asked  the  lady,  incredulously. 

"  Little  Lady  Marjory  laughed  outright.  '  They 
won't  rise  like  a  mushroom  in  a  single  night,'  she 
cried.  'We  shall  know— Jack  will  know  days, 
ao-es  before  any  outbreak  happens  at  Muttrapore. 
But  till  it  is  close  upon  us  don't  ask  me  to  take 
my  baby  into  the  craraped-up  quarters  we  should 
have  allotted  to  us  within  our  lines.  I  couldn't ; 
why  dear  baby  would  be  suffocated;  and,  you 
know,  we  can  get  there  in  half  an  hour  any  time.' 

"  'You  had  better  be  a  fortnight  too  early  than 
an  hour  too  late,  Lady  Marjory,' the  major's  wife 
urged. 


44  WITH  THE  TWENTY- FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

" '  Oh,  Jack  won't  let  me  be  a  moment  too 
late !'  cried  the  little  woman,  confidently. 

"  So  the  other  gave  uj3  tlie  useless  attempt  to 
frighten  her  into  seeking  a  place  of  safety.  As 
she  said  to  me  an  hour  afterwards,  '  What  could 
1  do  with  such  a  little  fool?  Her  superb  faith 
in  Jack — touching  and  pathetic  as  it  is — simply 
blinds  her  to  all  sense  of  danger,  even  when  the 
danger  is  so  near  that  it  may  burst  like  a  thunder- 
storm over  our  heads  at  any  moment.' 

"'You  had  better  try  your  powers  of  persua- 
sion on  Jack  himself,  Mrs.  Le  Mesurier,'  I  sug- 
gested; 'shake  him  and  you'll  shake  her.' 

"  Poor  little  fool !  She  bade  us  all  a  gay '  good- 
night'wlien  the  band  was  over,  and  drove  away 
to  the  bungalow  three  miles  distant,  sitting  as  un- 
concernedly by  Jack's  side  as  if  she  had  been 
driving  out  of  the  Park  to  quietly  eat  her  dinner 
in  Green  Street  or  Cavendish  Square.  Her  light 
laugh  rang  out  upon  the  night  air  just  as  Mrs.  Le 
Mesurier  asked  the  question, '  What  can  I  do  with 
such  a  little  fool?' 

"Poor  little  fool!  We  saw  her  riding  each 
morniug,  and  regularly  each  evening  she  and 
Jack  appeared  at  the  band.  Other  entertainments 
there  were  none  during  those  anxious  days,  those 


THE  MEM-SAHIB'S  PROMISE.  45 

being  only  kept  going  in  order  that  the  every-day 
life  of  the  English  residents  might  appear  to  the 
natives  to  be  going  on  in  the  ordinary  every-day 
manner.  The  ladies  kept  away  from  one  an- 
other's houses  lest  they  might  be  led  into  talkin^, 
the  situation  over,  and  so  express  signs  of  fea.' 
which  might  be  overheard  by  the  ever-watchful 
native  servants.  The  subject  was  never  mentioned 
in  the  mess-rooms  for  the  same  reason,  and  when 
it  was  absolutel}'  necessary  that  it  should  be  dis- 
cussed we  used  lO  go  out  into  the  great,  bare, 
deserted  square,  and  walk  up  and  down  there, 
knowing  that  wo  were  safe  from  listeners. 

"And  every  night  Jack  and  Lady  Marjory  used 
to  come  to  the  band,  and  she  would  call  out  in 
her  sweet,  injudicious  way,  utterly  regardless  of 
all  precautions  or  what  listeners  might  be  about, 
or  the  construction  which  might  be  put  upon  her 
words — 'Ah!  Here  we  are  again,  you  see,  all 
safe  and  sound,  like  n  couple  of  bad  shillings,  not 
to  be  got  rid  of.  You  know  they  say  naught  is 
never  in  danger.' 

"  And  Jack,  poor  chap,  he  was  so  proud  of  his 
little  wife's  pluck  and  the  real  bravery  of  her 
spirit  that  he  never  used  to  check  her  in  any  wa}". 
'  Oh,  Marjie  don't  know  what  fear  is,'  he  used  to 


46  WITH  THE  TWENTY- FUTH  DRAGOONS. 

boast,  when  we  told  him  what  a  dangerous  game 
they  were  playing,  and  how  the  mine  might  spring 
up  under  their  feet  or  ours  at  any  moment;  'I 
don't  think  I  could  frighten  her  if  I  tried,  and  I'm 
not  going  to  try.' 

"  Well,  a  week  or  two  went  over  like  this,  and 
then  May  went  out  and  June  came  in.  The  signs 
of  the  times  crept  nearer  and  nearer  to  us,  and 
the  thunder -clouds  rolled  up  over  us  and  hung 
ready  to  burst.  And  then  one  night,  when  we 
were  just  finishing  dinner,  a  carriage  dashed  up 
to  the  door,  and  Jack  Farquhar,  looking  anxious 
and  flurried,  rushed  in. 

" '  I  say,  you  fellows,'  he  panted, '  do  yoii  know 
there's  something  up  at  the  other  side  of  the  town, 
in  the  native  lines  V 

" '  No !'  we  all  cried,  for  we  had  not  expected  it 
quite  so  soon. 

"'Yes,  ray  bearer  came  in  and  told  me  that  the 
native  troops  had  risen  and  massacred  their  offi- 
cers— so  he'd  been  told.  He  didn't  quite  believe 
it,  but  there  was  certainly  a  rising.  So  I  came 
along  to  let  you  know,  sir,'  he  added  to  the 
colonel. 

" '  Quite  right !  You'd  better  bring  your  wife 
in,'  said  the  colonel — he  happened  to  be  dining  at 


.THE  MEM-SAHIB'S  PROMISE.  47 

mess  that  night — '  or  have  you  left  her  with  Mrs. 
Le  Mesurier?'  Mrs.  Le  Mesurier's  bungalow  was 
not  a  stone's-throw  from  the  gates,  the  colonel's 
about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away. 

" '  I  haven't  brought  her,'  said  Jack,  all  at  once 
turning  white  to  his  very  lips,  as  if  in  that  mo- 
ment he  realized  for  the  first  time  what  the  dan- 
ger really  was.  - 

" '  Good  God  !  man,'  cried  the  colonel,  angrily, 
'are  you  mad?  You've  been  acting  like  a  fool- 
hardy idiot  the  last  month  or  more,  but  who  was 
to  dream  you  would  carry  your  scatter-brained 
folly  so  far  as'4;his  ?  Good  God  !  it  is  too  horrible 
to  think  of.' 

"  Jack's  knees  seemed  to  fairly  give  way  under 
him.  '  I  left  her  in  Jamsee's  charge,'  he  stam- 
mered. '  She  wouldn't  come  with  me ;  she  wanted 
to  put  the  child's  things  together,  and  her  jew- 
ellery, and — ' 

" '  Don't  stand  gabbling  there,'  the  colonel  cried 
— he  was  in  a  furious  rage  and  a  horrible  fright, 
for  Lady  Marjory  was  one  of  his  special  favorites, 
and  he  had  from  the  very  beginning  estimated  the 
danger  of  the  coming  storm  at  something  very 
near  its  proper  value ;  '  let  us  be  off  at  once,  and 
pray  the  Lord  we  be  not  too  late.' 


48  WITH  THE  TWENTY-FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

"  Poor  Jack  fairly  sobbed  aloud  in  his  agony  of 
fear  and  dread,  and  followed  the  colonel  out  in 
abject  meekness.  At  the  very  first  hint  of  the  bad 
tidings,  the  colonel  had  sent  out  the  order  for  the 
regiment  to  be  in  readiness,  and  hastily  giving  Le 
Mesurier  instructions  upon  which  to  act  during  his 
absence,  rode  off  at  the  head  of  a  piquet,  as  hard 
as  their  horses  could  take  them,  for  the  Farquhars' 
bungalow.     I  followed  last  of  them  all. 

"In  spite  of  Jack's  horse  having  just  come  the 
three  jniles  they  had  to  traverse,  he  was  the  first 
to  reach  the  house.  I  had  gained  the  colonel's 
side  by  that  time,  but  Jack  was  well  on  in  front. 
As  we  rounded  a  turn  in  the  road  which  brouo'ht 
us  in  sight  of  the  buugalow.  Jack  turned  round — 
'It's  all  right  —  all  is  just  lighted  up  as  usual;' 
then  added,  in  a  lower  voice,  'But,  sir,  cured  of 
carelessness  in  that  respect  forever.' 

"  It  all  looked  just  as  usual,  as  Jack  said — there 
were  lights  here  and  there,  open  doors  in  one  or 
two  places,  dogs  barking  loudly  and  furiously  as 
somehow  dogs  always  do  bark  when  you  approach 
a  house  in  India  at  night. 

"Jack  pulled  up  at  the  gate,  and  shouted  for  a  syce 
to  come  and  take  his  horse.  '  Where  the  devil  aie 
they  all  ?'  he  burst  out,  irritably ;  but  nobody  came. 


THE  MEM-SAHIB'S  PROMISE.  49 

"He  jumped  down,  and  flung  the  reins  to  one 
of  the  dragoons — the  colonel  and  I  followed  him. 
'They've  all  bolted  off  to  see  the  row,'  he  ex- 
plained, as  we  went  along  the  drive ;  '  but  it  will 
be  all  right,  Marjie  promised  she  would  look  out 
fur  me — she'll  be  at  the  drawing-room  veranda. 
Ah  !  there  she  is,'  he  cried.  '  Safe !  safe !  my 
darling.' 

"He  sprang  up  the  steps  of  the  veranda  to 
where  Lady  Marjory  was  standing,  just  on  the 
threshold  of  the  door  leadino;  into  the  drawins'- 
room.  She  was  wearing  a  flowing  muslin  gown, 
entirely  white,  and  stood  holding  the  lintel  of  the 
door. 

"  Jack  rushed  to  her  and  caught  her  in  his  arms, 
with  a  glad  and  triumphant  cry — '  Oh,  my  darling! 
— my — '  And  then — upon  my  soul,  Urquhart," 
the  colonel  broke  off,  in  a  shaking  voice,  "  I  can 
scarcely  tell  the  story  after  all  these  years — and 
then  there  was  silence  for  one  dreadful  instant 
ere,  with  an  agonized  shriek,  he  threw  up  his  arms 
and  fell  down  at  our  feet,  apparently  as  dead  as 
the  poor  little  woman  standing  in  the  door-way." 

"  Dead !"  cried  Urquhart. 

"Dead — yes!  With  a  cord  tied  tightly  about 
her  pretty,  soft,  childish  throat,  with  her  great  blue 

4 


50  WITH  THE   TWENTY- FIFTH   DRAGOONS. 

eyes  staring  blankly  before  her,  as,  with  the  hor- 
ror still  stamped  upon  tliem,  they  had  stared  when 
she  stood  alone  to  look  a  grim  and  ghastly  death 
in  the  face — dead !  yes,  stone  dead,  with  her  dead 
baby  tied  up  in  her  arras,  and  herself  tied  there 
to  watch  for  the  husband  as  she  had  promised  him 
she  would  do.  I  think  it  was.  the  g-hastliest  si2;ht 
I  ever  saw,  to  see  that  poor  dead  thing  with  the 
great  clusters  of  white,  sweet-smelling  roses  nest- 
ling against  her  poor  strangled  throat. 

'"So  much  for  Jamsee's  fidelity,'  said  the  colo- 
nel bitterly,  as  we  raised  Jack  from  the  ground. 

" '  I  don't  know — look  there,'  I  answered ;  and, 
sure  enough,  thei-e  just  outside  the  door  lay  the  faith- 
ful Jamsee,  with  a  knife  clean  through  his  heart. 

"  We  got  the  poor  little  lady  and  the  dead  baby 
into  the  carriage,  and  finding  that  all  our  efforts 
did  not  restore  Jack  to  himself,  just  popped  him 
in  and  drove  back  again. 

"We  took  her  in  to  Mrs.  Le  Mesurier's  house, 
where  she  lay  all  that  night  and  was  laid  away 
quietly  in  the  morning,  with  her  baby  on  her 
breast.  Jack  never  saw  her,  and  when,  days  after, 
he  came  to  himself,  and  gradually  remembei-ed 
what  had  happened,  we  never  told  him  the  exact 
manner  of  her  death. 


THE   MEM-SAHIB'S   PROMISE.  51 

"  But  tliough  he  never  knew  how  she  had  been 
done  to  deatli  by  the  murderers,  he  never  held  up 
his  head  afterwards.  I  believe  he  tried  his  very- 
best  to  meet  his  end  during  the  awful  times  which 
followed.  Wliere  shot  and  shell  were  fiercest, 
where  death  and  disease  were  most  rife,  thei-e 
might  Jack  Farquhar  be  found ;  but  his  was  a 
charmed  life,  and,  as  you  see,  he  has  had  to  live 
through  his  one-and-twenty  years  of  the  martyr- 
dom of  self-blame  and  remorse." 

"And  Lady  Marjory's  murderers?"  Urquhart 
asked. 

"  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  every  one  of  them 
disposed  of,"  answered  Colonel  Ennis,  in  a  tone  of 
satisfaction. 


THE   PIANO   FIEND. 

A.    STORY    IN"    FIVK    ^CXS. 


EPISODE  I. 

OuK  name  is  Moggeridge  —  Algy,  Maud,  and 
Evangeline  Moggeridge — and  we  live  in  a  pretty 
little  semi-detached  villa  on  the  Castle  Road,  about 
half-way  between  the  Cavalry  Barracks  and  the 
city  of  WharneclifPe. 

Mother  says  —  oh  yes,  we  have  a  mother,  of 
course,  though  pa  died  five  years  ago  —  that  the 
Laurels  is  a  nasty  little  cramped-up  box  of  a  place, 
and  that  we  could  have  got  a  house  twice  as  large 
for  the  same  money  on  the  other  side  of  the  town 
a  little  way  out ;  but  then,  as  Maud  and  I  say, 
there  would  be  no  barracks  on  the  other  side  of 
the  town,  and  it  isn't  likely  two  smart  girls  like 
us  were  going  to  bury  ourselves  just  to  gratify  an 
old  lady's  whims.  And  as  we  tell  mother,  she  has 
had  her  day,  and  we  want  ours — and  we  mean  to 
have  it,  too. 

I  consider  that  Maud  is  a  very  handsome  girl. 


THE  PIANO  FIEND.  68 

though  she  persists  in  saying  she  is  not  half  so 
handsome  as  I  am.  Maud  is  a  tall,  dashing  girl, 
with  a  slender  figure  and  lots  of  style.  She  has 
big  brown  eyes  (they  look  glorious  when  they're 
touched  up  a  bit  underneath),  plenty  of  color,  a 
little  short  nose,  rather  a  wide  mouth,  with  very 
white  teeth  and  ripe  red  lips.  Then,  too,  she  has 
heaps  of  dark  silky,  fluffy  hair,  which  curls  all 
over  her  forehead,  half  hides  her  ears,  and  lies  at 
the  back  of  her  milk-white  neck  in  bewitcliiug 
little  waves ;  all  the  rest  is  gathered  in  a  mass  at 
the  top  of  her  head. 

People  say  we  are  very  much  alike. 

We  were  sorry  when  the  Scarlet  Lancers  went 
away  ;  it  was  such  a  becoming  uniform,  and  the 
officers  were  continually  passing  to  and  fro  in  their 
reo-imentals.  I  do  like  to  see  a  man  in  regiment- 
als;  but  then  I  dote  upon  the  military — so  does 
Maud.  We  didn't  get  to  know  any  of  the  Scarlet 
Lancers;  but  we  heard  before  the  Black  Horse 
arrived  that  one  of  the  married  officers  had  taken 
the  house  next  door  to  us,  when,  of  course,  things 
would  be  different.  And  very  glad  we  were  of 
the  change,  for  the  people  who  lived  in  that  house 
before  were  very  common  shop -people,  or  some- 
thing of  that  kind.     And  what  was  most  aggra- 


54  WITH  THE   TWENTY-FIFTH   DRAGOONS. 

vating  of  all,  mother  got  to  know  them,  and  used 
to  be  always  going  in  and  out  gossiping  with  Mrs. 
Barker,  who  dropped  her  h^s,  and  used  to  wash  her 
own  door  -  step  if  she  happened  to  be  without  a 
servant. 

Mother  wouldn't  listen  to  reason  about  it  either; 
but,  as  Maud  said,  mother  has  a  taste  for  low 
things,  and  no  idea  of  taking  a  proper  position  in 
society. 

Well,  the  regiment  arrived  at  the  barracks,  and 
the  new  people  came  and  took  possession  of  the 
next  house — or  rather  their  luggage  did,  in  charge 
of  a  lot  of  soldiers,  who  tumbled  it  out  in  the 
middle  of  the  road,  and  made  a  litter  and  mess 
with  straw  and  paper  and  rubbish  that  wasn't 
cleared  away  for  weeks. 

Just  as  the  soldiers  were  going  away,  three  cabs 
appeared,  all  piled  up  with  luggage,  a  man-servant, 
a  fat  old  woman  we  thought  must  be  the  cook, 
and  a  smart  young  lady  whom  we  took  to  be  the 
mistress,  until  presently  she  appeared  with  a  cap 
and  an  apron  on,  and  helped  to  unpack  the  things. 
We  found  out  afterwards  that  she  was  the  lady's- 
maid,  and  did  a  little  light  house -work,  Maud 
and  I  took  the  opportunity  of  going  to  the  end  of 
the  road  to  post  a  letter,  just  to  get  a  peep  at  the 


THE   PIANO  FIEND.  55 

name  on  the  luggage,  and  it  fairly  took  our  breath 
away,  it  looked  so  romantic  and  distinguished — 

Captain  Otho  Strange, 
Twenty-fifth  Dragoons,  Wharnecliffa 

Captain  Otho  Strange !  Fancy  being  called  Mrs. 
Otho  Strange,  and  putting  it  on  your  cards,  and 
seeing  it  on  your  letters !  What  luck  some  peo- 
ple have!  What  a  shame  he  happened  to  be  mar- 
ried! and  how  well  either  of  our  names  would 
have  gone  with  his  — Maud  Strange,  Evangeline 
Strai]ge !     What  luck  some  people  have ! 

We  didn't  think  much  of  the  furniture ;  it  all 
took  to  pieces,  and  the  man  put  everything  togeth- 
er in  the  road,  not  caring  a  bit  who  was  lookino- 
on.  There  was  a  big  wooden  bath,  an  oval  thing 
with  a  lid;  the  lid  came  off;  three  smart  black 
and  gold  legs  came  out  of  the  tub  first,  and  were 
quickly  screwed  in  so  that  it  made  a  table.  I  sup- 
pose they  called  it  a  gypsrj  table. 

All  the  dining-room  furniture  seemed  to  be  the 
same  sort  of  thing.  A  huge  packing-case  was 
opened,  and  out  came  arms  and  legs  and  backs 
and  seats  of  chairs;  these  were  all  screwed  togeth- 
er and  carried  in-doors — common-looking  things 
they  were,  too,  not  half  so  good  as  ours  that  we  are 


56  WITH  THE  TWENTY- FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

always  bothering  mother  to  get  rid  of.  Then  the 
packing-case  itself  turned  inside  out  and  made 
into  a  chiffonier — such  a  thing  !  I  wouldn't  have 
owned  it. 

"We  had  a  good  stare  at  everything,  for  the  serv- 
ants didn't  seem  to  mind  on-lookers  a  bit.  There 
were  nice  squares  of  carpet,  Turkey  or  Persian, 
and  very  handsome  velvet  chairs,  lots  of  lovely 
skin  rugs,  and  pictures  without  end. 

But  as  far  as  we  could  tell,  the  furniture  in  the 
drawing-room  consisted  of  nothing  but  big  velvet 
chairs  and  one  or  two  cases  which  turned  inside 
out  and  made  into  big  velvet  ottomans.  Still,  it 
all  looked  very  nice  when  it  was  done,  for  they 
had  the  gas  lighted  one  night  and  forgot  to  pull 
the  blinds  down,  so  Maud  and  I  went  to  the  gate 
to  have  a  look,  and  saw  everything.  There  were 
w^hite  lace  curtains  as  well  as  the  velvet  ones,  and 
the  big  chairs  set  here  and  there  on  the  hand- 
some carpet,  and  the  skin  rugs  just  anywhere. 
And  one  of  the  batli-lid  tables  had  got  a  pretty 
lace  and  muslin  cover,  with  lots  of  colored  ribbons 
hanging  from  it ;  so  with  half  a  dozen  plants  the 
room  looked  very  habitable  indeed. 

Mary,  our  servant,  told  us  they  were  expected 
by  the  last  train. 


THE  PIANO  FIEND.  57 

EPISODE  II. 

We  have  seen  them ;  they  came  out  quite  early, 
long  before  ten  o'clock,  he  in  his  regimentals,  and 
she  in  a  fresh  white  cotton  breakfast  gown,  trim- 
med with  Madeira-work — so  pretty;  and  slie  stood 
holding  tlie  top  of  tlie  gate  with  one  hand  and 
picked  a  bit  of  fluff  off  his  coat  with  the  other; 
and  then  he  said  something,  and  she  laughed,  and 
then  he  lauglied  too,  and  patted  her  face  with  his 
hand;  and  then  he  actually  saluted  her, just  as  if 
she  had  been  a  stranger. 

She  stood  leaning  her  arms  on  the  gate  for  a 
good  bit  after  he  went — long  after  he  had  disap- 
peared round  the  corner.  Maud  and  I  went  out 
into  our  garden,  and  picked  a  few  dead  leaves  off 
the  rose-trees  and  gatliered  ourselves  a  button-hole. 
And  then,  while  we  were  there,  and  Mrs.  Strange 
was  staring  up  and  down  the  road,  who  should  come 
along  but  another  othcer,  in  regimentals  too,  but 
he  was  on  horseback  —  sucli  a  handsome  fellow, 
and  younger  than  her  husband — and  he  waved  his 
hand  to  her,  and  reined  his  horse  up  just  outside 
the  gate. 

"Halloo,  Kitty!"  said  he, "I  hardly  expected  to 
see  you  this  morning." 


58  WITH  THE   TWEx\TY-FIFTH   DRAGOONS. 

"  Well,  Bill,"  she  called  back ;  and  then,  yes, 
actually,  if  he  didn't  bend  down  and  give  her  a 
great,  sounding  kiss — yes ;  and  the  man  -  servant, 
who  had  come  out  to  do  something  at  a  creeper 
which  grew  up  by  the  window,  standing  by.  And 
Maud  said  to  me,  "  Ah,  don't  officers'  wives  get  a 
good  time, just?" 

"Where's  Strange?"  he  asked, presently,  at  the 
same  time  stealing  a  glance  at  us. 

"  Just  gone,"  she  answered. 

"  Well,  I  must  be  oif,  or  1  shall  be  too  late  for 
officers'  call.     By-bye." 

"  By-bye,"  she  said,  with  a  laugh  ;  and  then  she 
watched  him  go  down  the  road  too.  Fancy  a 
woman  being  able  to  stand  at  a  gate  and  watch 
two  good-looking  fellows  go  down  the  road  in  less 
than  half  an  hour. 

But  she  didn't  go  in  then.  She  strolled  about 
the  little  garden,  and  had  a  long  talk  to  the  man 
about  the  flowers  and  the  creepers.  She  didn't 
seem  a  bit  stuck  up  either,  for  she  laughed  right 
out  twice,  and  the  man  laughed  too,  though  he  put 
up  his  hand  and  pretended  he  didn't.  However, 
at  last  she  went  in-doors  and  left  him. 

How  jolly  it  must  be  to  have  a  man-servant, 
and  tell  him  just  what  you  want  him  to  do?  What 


THE   PIANO   FIEND.  59 

luck  some  people  have !  And,  as  Maud  said  to  me, 
she  wasn't  half  as  good-looking  as  us. 

"  What  shall  we  do  ?"  I  said  to  Maud. 

"Oh, go  in  and  sing  something," she  answered. 
She's  awfully  proud  of  ray  singing,  Maud  is ;  and 
I  knew  she  wanted  Mrs,  Strange  to  hear  what  I 
could  do  in  that  way. 

Well,  I  went  in  and  I  sang  "  The  Lost  Chord," 
just  to  clear  my  voice  and  set  me  going,  and  then 
"  In  the  Gloaming "  and  "  Golden  Love."  I'm 
awfully  fond  of  that,  it's  so  touching — 

"Never  to  part,  oh,  darling,  never  more, 
Until  the  angels  call  us  home  to  rest !" 

I  sang  ever  so  many  more  after  that — all  my  best 
songs,  in  fact — last  of  all  "  Laddie  " — 

"  Oh,  Laddie,  Laddie,  Laddie, 
Come  back  if  'tis  but  to  say. 
The  angels  above  have  found  thee  alone. 
And  borne  thy  burden  away!" 

I  do  like  that  song ;  one  can  put  so  much  expres- 
sion into  it ! 

I  didn't  sing  any  more  after  that,  but  Maud 
said  she  thought  she'd  practise  a  bit.  She's  a 
splendid  player,  is  Maud,  so  dashing  and  brilliant. 
She  played  a  good  lot  that  morning — more  than 


60  WITH   THE   TWENTY-FIFTH   DRAGOONS. 

nsnal ;  in  fact,  until  Algy  came  in  and  it  was  our 
dinner-time. 

When  A]gy  went  back  to  the  office  I  strolled 
out  as  far  as  the  gate  with  him.  But  he  went 
away  with  a  horrid  short  pipe  in  his  mouth,  and 
told  me  to  go  in  and  not  make  an  exhibition  of 
m3'self.  That  was  because  I  tried  to  pick  a  great, 
long,  carroty  hair  off  his  coat.  I  didn't  go  in,  but 
I  wished  I  hadn't  come  out.  That's  the  way  with 
brothers ;  they're  so  provoking,  and  they  always 
make  you  feel  so  small ! 

Well,  it  wasn't  very  long  after  that  that  Maud 
called  out  "  Evangeline — oh  /"  and  made  a  rush  to 
the  window.  I  went  after  her,  and  saw  the  very 
loveliest  turn-out  I  have  ever  seen  in  our  road  be- 
fore. Of  course  it  belonged  to  the  Stranc^es.  It 
was  a  sort  of  low  dog-cart  made  of  basket-work, 
and  di-awn  by  the  prettiest  pair  of  ponies  ever  I 
saw.  The  linings  were  rifle  green,  and  there  was 
a  good  deal  of  brass  on  the  harness;  the  ponies 
were  brown — very  dark.  Captain  Strange  came 
out  first,  smoking  a  pipe — just  such  a  horrid  dirty 
thing  as  Algy  persists  in  using.  He  had  no  hat 
on,  and  wore  a  plain  light  gray  suit — dittoes,  you 
know  —  and  had  his  hands  in  his  pockets.  He 
went  out  into  the  road  and  walked  all  round  the 


THE  PIANO  FIEND.  61 

ponies,  punched  thera  here  and  there,  and  slapped 
their  necks,  smoothed  their  legs  down — some  of 
them,  that  is — and  looked  at  their  feet.  And  then 
she  came  out  and  looked,  and  she  punched  thera 
and  slapped  them  and  smoothed  their  legs.  And 
didn't  she  look  stylish,  just,  all  in  black,  with  beads 
eveiywhere  that  glittered  in  the  sunshine  like  a 
lot  of  black  diamonds.  She  had  a  little  white 
straw  hat,  with  a  great  bunch  of  creamy  roses  at 
the  front,  and  tan  gloves  sewed  with  black,  and 
not  so  much  as  a  bit  of  ornament  about  her — not 
a  bracelet,  nor  a  necklet,  nor  an  ear-ring,  not  even 
a  watch-chain ;  nothing  but  a  little  gold  brooch  to 
fasten  her  collar ;  and  Maud,  who  had  got  the  op- 
era-glasses to  get  a  good  look,  said  it  was  a  per- 
fectly plain  bar  of  gold,  with  raised  gold  letters — 
just  the  name,  "Otho."  Then  Captain  Strange 
called  Charles,  and  tlie  man  came  running  out 
with  a  parasol  and  his  hat  and  gloves.  He  bent 
down  when  he  was  putting  his  gloves  on  to  hear 
something  his  wife  said,  and  then  he  turned  round 
and  gave  our  windows  such  a  stare  !  I  dare  say 
she  was  telling  him  w^hat  smart  girls  we  were. 


62 


WITH  THE  TWENTY-FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 


EPISODE  III. 
Well,  I  never !  Of  all  the  insults—  But  I'll  tell 
you  about  it.  Maud  and  I  went  and  called  on 
Mrs.  Strange  this  afternoon.  We  knew  she  was 
in,  but  Charles  said  she  wasn't  at  home.  Of  course 
we  couldn't  say  so,  so  we  left  our  cards,  and  I 
think  our  cards  look  very  well. 


QfUMi^d    QMoaaeiic/^e. 


Ovanmmie     Qfioaa cliche. 


And  actually  they  went  out  for  their  drive  as 
usual  half  an  hour  later,  and  as  soon  as  their  backs 
were  turned,  if  that  impudent  Charles  didn't  come 
to  our  house  and  ring  the  bell ! 

"  Mrs.  Strange's  compliments,"  said  he,  handing 
Mary  an  envelope,  "and  she  thinks  there  must 
have  been  some  mistake."     And  off  he  went. 

"It's  to  apologize  for  his  saying  she  wasn't  in," 


THE  PIANO  FIEND.  63 

said  Maud.  Bat  it  wasn't.  There  was  no  address 
on  the  envelope,  and  when  we  opened  it,  there  fell 
out  our  own  cards. 

And  I  suppose  she  calls  herself  a  lady ! — a  vul- 
gar, stiick-iip  thing.  So  Maud  and  I  resolved  to 
let  her  see  that  we  are  as  good  as  she  any  day  of 
the  week.  Just  fancy !  after  our  condescending 
to  go  and  call  on  a  brazen-faced  thing  like  that, 
who  carries  on  with  another  fellow  as  she  does ! 
/  wonder  her  husband  stands  it ;  but  he  doesn't 
care,  not  a  button,  and  the  young  officer  simply 
lives  there.  /  can't  tell  what  either  of  them  can 
see  in  her. 

EPISODE  IV. 

Another  insult.  I  never  saw  such  insolent  peo- 
ple in  all  my  life.  If  that  Charles  didn't  actually 
come  again  with  a  note  for  Mrs.  Moggeridge.  But 
I'll  tell  you.  It  began,  "  Dear  Madam,"  and  it 
said,  in  the  most  brutally  plain  terms,  that  his  wife, 
being  an  author  of  distinction,  found  our  piano 
and  our  singing — Maud's  playing  and  my  singing, 
if  you  please ! — a  very  great  hinderance,  and  that 
they  would  be  very  much  obliged  if  we  could  ab- 
stain from  music  between  the  hours  of  ten  and 
one  in  the  morning. 

Mother  was  out   when  the  note  came,  and   of 


64  WITH  THE  TWENTY- FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

course  we  hadn't  waited  for  her  to  come  in  to  open 
it,  so  Maud  put  it  in  the  fire,  and  didn't  we  let 
them  have  it,  just!  It  was  half -past  nine  when 
the  note  came,  and  we  sat  down  to  the  piano  and 
kept  at  it  till  we  saw  him  come  home  to  lunch  at 
one,  and  I  must  say  I  closed  the  instrument  with 
a  feeling  that  I  hadn't  made  my  throat  sore  for 
nothing.  There  was  a  good  deal  of  satisfaction 
in  that. 

"There!"  I  exclaimed,  as  we  watched  them 
drive  aM'ay  that  afternoon,  "  I  think  we've  let 
'your  obedient  servant,  Otho  Strange,  captain,' 
know  how  much  value  we  set  on  you  and  the 
author  of  distinction,  and  I  hope  you  liked  it." 

But  they  didn't  look  as  if  they  liked  it  at  all, 
either  of  them,  but  we  paid  them  out.  lie  used 
to  scowl  at  the  windows,  and  she  used  to  sneer  as 
she  went  out,  and  if  we  met  either  of  them  in  the 
street,  they  used  to  look  straight  past  us  and  pre- 
tend they  didn't  see  us.     Such  humbug  ! 

But  we  paid  them  out;  we  played  and  we  sang 
morning,  noon,  and  night,  except  when  they  were 
out  in  the  evening,  which  was  pretty  often,  and 
then  we  took  a  rest.  And  whenever  any  of  the 
officers  came  to  see  them  they  used  to  look  our 
way,  of  course,  and   we  used  to   look  back,  and 


THE  PIANO   FIEND.  65 

then  they  used  to  laugh,  and  we  smiled  back,  and 
then  they  bowed,  and  so  did  we,  and  didn't  she 
look  daggers  at  ns,  just,  the  nasty,  stuck-up  cat! 
Yes,  she  wanted  all  the  admiration  for  herself — 
that  was  what  she  wanted. 

And  after  we  had  given  them  about  a  week  to 
find  out  what  we  could  do,  there  came  another 
"  Dear  Madam "  letter,  objecting  to  our  musical 
performances — this  time  as  an  intolerable  nuisance 
— and  saying  if  they  were  not  stopped  as  desired, 
he  should  take  measures  to  remedy  the  matter, 
and  promptly.  We  didn't  let  mother  see  that  let- 
ter either ;  we  put  it  in  the  fire  like  the  other,  and 
let  him  take  measures,  as  many  as  he  liked.  Maud 
just  went  on  playing  till  her  fingers  nearly  dropped 
off,  with  the  top  open  and  the  loud  pedal  down, 
and  I  sang  till  I  nearly  cracked  my  throat.  But 
we  paid  the  author  of  distinction  out  finely,  didn't 
we,  just?  And  we  found  out  that  "  Bill"  is  only 
her  brother,  after  all. 

EPISODE  V. 

Evangeline  Moggeridge  had  written  thus  far 
when  a  change  came  o'er  the  spirit  of  her  dream 
and  Maud's,  and  as  the  unfinished  manuscript 
happened  to  fall  into  my  hands,  I  concluded  that 

6 


66  WITH  THE  TWENTY-FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

it  would  not  be  ill-spent  time  for  me  to  wind  up 
the  little  stoiy  of  the  piano  fiend  in  a  fifth  episode 
compiled  from  accounts  which  reached  me  from 
either  side  of  the  wall. 

It  was  thus:  about  five  weeks  had  passed  since 
Mrs.  Strange  had  positively,  but  in  terms  of  polite- 
ness, declined  the  honor  of  the  Moggeridge  girls' 
acquaintance  by  returning  their  cards — five  weeks 
which  to  her  had  been  a  period  of  torture  inde- 
scribable. Letters  proving  of  no  avail,  and  a  legal 
remedy  seeming  to  Strange  too  slow  in  operation, 
and  also  too  costly  a  process  for  such  a  case,  he 
get  his  wits  to  work,  and  took  a  revenge  of  his 
own — he  flattered  himself  it  was  novel ;  he  knew 
it  was,  so  to  speak,  by  wholesale.  And  the  follow- 
ing day  he  put  it  into  use.  The  effect  was  mirac- 
ulous, for  Evangeline  Moggeridge  was  at  the  pi- 
ano a-singing 

" An-n-n-n-n-ngels,  e-e-e-e-e-e-ver  br-i-i-i-i-i-gUt  and  f-a-a-a- 
a-air  ! 
Ta-a-a-a-a-ke,  o-o-o-b,  ta-a-a-ke  m-e-e-e  t-o-o-o— " 

when  there  was  a  Bang  —  Ckasfi  —  Bang  !  next 
door,  followed  by  a  "  Twiddle-diddle,  twiddle-did- 
dle, diddle-dee."  Then  a  "  Pom — Pom — Pom — 
Umtra — Umtra — Umtra — Bang — Bang  -—  JBang  I 


THE  PIANO  FIEND.  67 

Twiddle-diddle— Pom— Pom  — Pom!  Twiddle- 
diddle  dec.  Ting-a-ting-a-tiiig-a-ting-ting-ting  1" 
followed  by  a  maddening  "  Tnm-a-dum,  a-rnm-a 
dnm,  a-nim-a-dura,  a-rum-tum-tum !  Bang — Bang 
—Bang  1" 

Evangeline  did  her  best — what  might  be  called 
her  level  best — but  "  Angels  ever  bright  and  fair" 
hadn't  much  chance  against  the  horrible  discord 
and  tumult  of  a  band  practice! 

As  I  said,  she  did  her  best.  She  got  Maud  to 
come  and  play  that  she  might  stand  up  and  shriek 
with  better  effect  and  more  power.  But  what 
availed  the  shriek  of  a  sino;le  human  throat  airainst 
the  "Bang"  of  the  big  drum,  the  "Crash"  of  the 
cymbals,  the  distinct  "  Twaddle  -  diddle,  twiddle- 
diddle  dee  "  of  the  piccolo,  the  "  Pom — Pom — 
Pom  "  of  the  trombone,  the  "  Umtra  —  Umtra — 
Umtra  "  of  the  ophicleide,  or,  stay — perhaps  1  am 
not  correct  on  that  point  —  still  there  is  a  thing 
in  a  brass  band  which  goes  "  Umtra — Umtra,"  is 
there  not?  And  putting  that  aside,  what  chance 
had  the  fair  Evangeline  against  all  these,  backed 
up  by  the  "  Ting-a-ting-a-ting "  of  the  triangles, 
and  the  absolutely  maddening  "  Ilum-a-tum,a-rum- 
a-tum,  a-rub-dub-dub"of  the  little  drum  as  it  rat- 
tled out  the  good  old  tune — 


68  WITH   THE   TWENTY-FIFTU   DRAGOONS. 

"What  could  old  Napoly  do, 
With  all  his  Cuirassiers, 
When  he  met  on  the  field  of  Waterloo 
With  the  British  Grenadiers  ?" 

I  give  you  my  sacred  word  of  honor,  reader, 
that  "angels,"  no  matter  how  bright  and  fair, 
weren't  in  the  same  street  with  it ! 

Well,  after  three  days  of  this  the  Misses  Mog- 
geridge  gave  in  and  rested  from  their  labors.  Un- 
fortunately their  works  followed  them,  and  tlie 
band  practices  next  door  continued,  worse  than 
that,  from  morn  till  noon,  and  from  noon  till  dewy 
eve ;  the  miscellaneous  practising,  apparently,  of 
all  the  separate  instruments  in  the  entire  band  of 
forty-five  performers,  each  hammering  at  some  dif- 
ficult and  elusive  passage,  each  in  a  different  key 
to  his  comrades,  continued  also.  And  then  there 
were  explanations  between  Strange  and  brother 
Algy,  and  the  distinguished  author  got  her  three 
hours  of  peace  at  last. 


DISTINCTION. 

Sir  Anthony  Staunton,  Captain  of  the  Black 
Horse,  walked  briskly  into  the  anteroom  one 
bright  March  morning,  just  before  lunch -time. 
Sir  Anthony,  better  known  as  Pops,  from  his  in- 
veterate habit  of  popping  the  question  to  almost 
every  girl  to  whom  he  was  introduced,  in  the 
most  blissful  disregard  of  the  melancholy  fact 
that  he  was  as  poor  as  a  rat  or  a  church  mouse, 
and  had  barely  enough  income  to  cover  the  mod- 
est expenses  of  a  cavalry  officer  who  didn't  mind 
owning  the  truth  of  his  circumstances,  was  a 
good  specimen  of  a  regimental  favorite,  for  he  was 
a  man  whom  everybody  liked — liked  thoroughly 
and  sincerely.  He  was  a  well-made  and  well- 
favored  fellow,  rather  over  the  middle  height,  not 
handsome,  but  possessed  of  a  pair  of  handsome 
gray  eyes,  and  a  set  of  dazzlingly  handsome  teeth, 
a  perfect  digestion,  and  a  heavenly  temper,  only 
to  be  roused  by  an  injustice  or  a  wrong.  As  to 
wliat  some  men,  nay,  most  men,  would  resent  as  an 
insult,  Pops  was  so  contemptuous  as  to  be  proof 


70  WITH  THE  TWENTY- FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

against  it ;  indeed  there  was  a  story  afloat  in  the 
Black  Horse  that  one  Grand  Prix  week  Pops  went 
to  Paris,  and  with  his  usual  eye  to  a  pretty  face 
promptly  went  for  the  fiancee  of  a  young  French 
nobleman,  instead  of  attending  to  the  races,  as  he 
had  purposely  gone  to  do. 

A  rumor  had  crept  back  to  his  regiment  that 
Pops  had  instantly  been  called  out  by  the  en- 
raged Frenchman ;  therefore,  as  soon  as  he  show- 
ed his  face  among  his  comrades  he  was  eagerly 
questioned:  "Was  it  true?" 

"  Oh  yes,"  answered  he,  with  a  laugh,  "  it  was 
true  enough." 

"  And  what  did  you  do  ?     Fight  ?" 

"  Fight !     No,  not  quite,"  contemptuously. 

"But  what  did  you  do?"  persisted  his  ques^ 
tioners. 

"  Oh  !  I  punched  his  head  —  the  ass,"  replied 
Pops,  laughing  again. 

Well,  as  I  said,  he  went  briskly  into  the  ante- 
room one  bright  March  morning,  straight  up  to 
the  letter-rack. 

"Any  for  me?"  he  said  to  one  of  the  fellows 
who  was  examining  the  letters  with  an  eye  to 
his  own  correspondence. 

"  Yes,  one  from  your  aunt,"  answered  the  man, 


DiSTlNCTIOIf.  71 

pl-omptly — a  reply  which  raised  a  general  laugh, 
for  Sir  Anthony  Staunton's  aunt,  who  was  also 
his  godmother,  was  a  very  favorite  personage  with 
the  officers  of  the  Black  Horse. 

Sir  Anthony  laughed  with  the  others.  He  was 
never,  as  a  rule,  behindhand  with  his  share  of  any 
jollity  or  chaff  which  might  chance  to  be  afloat ; 
but  the  laughter  ceased  as  suddenly  as  it  had 
come,  for,  lo  and  behold,  up  in  the  left-hand  cor- 
ner of  the  rack  was  a  square  envelope,  on  which 
was  written  in  a  stiff,  precise,  and  singularly  an- 
gular style  of  caligraphy,  his  own  name  —  "  Sir 
Anthony  Staunton,  Bart.,  25th  Dragoons,  Wharne- 
cliffe  " — and  as  his  eyes  fell  thereon.  Sir  Anthony 
Staunton  fairly  groaned  within  himself,  for  he 
knew  that  the  letter  would  sooner  or  later  have 
to  be  answered. 

But  when  he  had  mastered  the  contents  of  the 
epistle  he  groaned  out  aloud,  in  such  genuine  dis- 
tress and  dismay  that  every  head  in  the  room 
was  raised,  every  voice  silenced,  every  letter  and 
paper  lowered. 

"  What's  up.  Pops  ?"  said  half  a  dozen  sympa- 
thetic voices. 

"  Oh,  I've  gone  and  done  it  this  time — no  mis- 
take about  it!"  he  groaned. 


7^  WITH  THE  TWENTY- FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

"Done  what?  Not  offended  them,  surely?" 
Urquhart  asked.  They  all  knew  that  an  immense 
fortune  hung  on  his  relations  with  his  godmother- 
aunts,  and  felt  for  him  accordingly. 

"  Offended  them  ?"  repeated  poor  Pops,  in  what 
was  positively  almost  a  wail.  "No;  but  just  lis- 
ten to  this,  and  then  tell  me  what  the  devil  I'm 
to  do !" 

"  Go  on !"  cried  several  voices,  encouragingly. 

So  Pops  went  on — and  read  aloud  part  of  the 
letter  he  had  just  received. 

"'I  am  delighted  to  hear,'  it  said, 'that  you 
find  your  new  station  so  congenial  to  your  tastes 
and  pursuits.  Your  Aunt  Lavinia  is  busily  en- 
gaged in  writing  a  daily  manual  for  the  use  of 
our  soldiers  and  sailors,  and  has  asked  me  to 
write  and  tell  you  that,  since  she  considers  it  ut- 
terly impossible  to  produce  good  and  useful  work 
unless  she  has  an  opportunity  of  closely  study- 
ing the  lives  and  habits  of  the  class  for  whom 
she  writes,  she  has  decided  that  we  shall  come 
to  Wliarnecliffe  and  pay  you  a  long  visit.  If  you 
remember,  dear  Mrs.  De  Swinton,  when  her  son 
was  colonel  of  the  — th  Lancers,  was  accustomed 
to  pay  him  a  visit  of  many  months'  duration  each 
year,  and  it  is  partly  from  her  glowing  accounts 


DISTINCTION.  76 

of  those  visits,  and  the  pleasure  and  novelty  of 
the  life,  that  your  Aunt  Lavinia  has  persuaded 
me  to  take  this  step — ' " 

"  D Mrs.  De   Svvinton  !"  burst   out   Pops, 

savagely,  at  this  point. 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  De  Swinton  doing  it  when 
the  visits  were  just  coming  on?"  Lord  Archie 
asked.  "No?  Well,  I  have;  and  I  can  assure 
you,  my  poor  persecuted  Sir  Roger,  any  little  mild 
additions  of  yours  in  that  line  are  quite  unnec- 
essary." 

"  Oh,  De  Swinton  wasn't  the  man  to  do  any- 
thing by  halves  when  he  did  set  about  it !"  laugh- 
ed Urquhart.     "  Well,  Pops,  what  next  ?     Go  on." 

" ' — the  wisdom  of  which  I  was  very  doubtful 
about  myself,  knowing  full  well  that  you  are  a 
young  man  living  among  young  men  like  yourself, 
wliile  we  are  two  old  women  full  of  crotchets  and 
fads  of  all  kinds.  Ilowever,  you  know,  my  dear 
boy — no  one  better — that  on  the  score  of  her  be- 
ing ten  years  my  junior,  your  dear  aunt  will  per- 
sist in  thinking  herself  a  skittish  young  thing,  whom 
any  vagary  of  conduct  becomes.  And  how  touchy 
she  is  if  reminded  that  she  is  an  old  woman  of 
sixty — old  enough  to  be  your  grandmother  rather 
than  your  half -aunt;  therefore  I  have  reluctantly, 


U  WITH  THE  TWENTY- FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

after  saying  everything  I  could  to  prevent  it  and 
turn  her  from  her  purpose,  given  in.  If  she  comes 
— and  I  am  afraid  she  will,  since  she  has  so  set 
her  heart  upon  it — it  will  be  my  duty  to  accompa- 
ny her ;  and  while,  my  dear  boy,  thus  necessarily 
inflicting  myself  upon  you,  endeavor  to  render  the 
visit  as  little  unpleasant  to  you  as  possible.  She 
bids  me  say  that  a  couple  of  rooms — yours,  for 
preference — will  be  all  that  we  shall  require,  with 
the  addition  of  a  small  sleeping-room  for  our  maid, 
Warner.  Mrs.  De  Swinton  never  had  more,  and 
had  all  her  meals  from  the  mess,  as  your  Aunt 
Lavinia  wishes  to  do  also.  I  assure  you,  my  dear 
Anthony,'  the  old  lady  went  on, '  I  never  sat  down 
to  pen  a  letter  with  greater  reluctance,  and  I  am 
sure  that  you  will  exonerate  me  from  any  blame 
in  the  matter.  Although  I  am  an  old — I  may  al- 
most say  an  aged — lady,  I  feel  that  it  is  a  higlily 
improper  step  to  take,  we  not  being  like  dear  Mrs. 
De  Swinton,  married  women.  But  if  I  absolutely 
refuse  to  come,  your  Aunt  Lavinia  is  quite  capable 
of  coming  by  herself,  in  which  case  there  is  simply 
no  saying  what  might  happen.'  " 

When  the  yell  of  laughter  which  greeted  this 
had  somewhat  subsided,  poor  perplexed  Pops  con- 
tinued— "  '  What  is  worse,'  the  old  lady  went  on 


DISTINCTION.  75 

to  say, '  I  dare  not  say  as  much  to  her,  for  if  I  do 
she  is  quite  capable  of  leaving  the  whole  of  her 
fortune  to  that  detestable  Emily  Spenderley's  hate- 
ful boy—' " 

"And  that  would  bo  a  calamity,"  remarked 
Archie  Falconer,  feelingly. 

Sir  Anthony  Staunton  folded  the  letter  and  re-, 
placed  it  in  its  envelope. 

"What  the  devil  am  I  to  do?"  he  said  at 
length. 

Several  heads  were  shaken,  but  nobody  offered 
any  suggestion  for  the  suppression  of  the  frisky  old 
lady  who  was  pining  for  an  opportunity  of  study- 
ing the  dragoon  in  his  habit  as  he  lives. 

"  It  must  be  stopped  somehow,  or  I  shall  have 
to  leave  the  regiment,"  the  wretched  victim  cried 
at  last.  "  I  can't  face  the  men  after  my  Aunt  La- 
vinia  has  been  let  loose  in  barracks,  and  been  cack- 
ling in  and  out  of  the  troop-rooms  and  so  on.  Oh, 
hang  it!  it'll  have  to  be  stopped  somehow." 

"  Oh,  tell  her  small-pox  is  raging  in  barracks, 
and  the  town  simply  decimated  by  scarlet-fever," 
Lord  Archie  suggested. 

Sir  Anthony  shook  his  head.  "  She  would  know 
that  was  a  lie,"  he  said,  dolefully.  "  And  it's  no 
use  telling  her  that  the  moral  tone  of  the  regiment 


76  WITH  THE  TWENTY- FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

isn't  fit  for  a  ladj  to  come  to,  she'd  only  be  all  tlie 
more  anxious  to  come." 

Orford  burst  out  laughing.  "Did  any  of  you 
fellows  ever  hear  the  old  butler  at  Idleminster 
Mansion  House  give  a  description  of  'them  'ere 
ladies'  meetings  V  " 

"No.     How?    What  was  it?" 

"  He  asked  me  one  day  when  I  went  to  call  on 
the  Mayoress  if  I'd  come  to  call,  or  was  I  come  to 
the  meeting?  'Meeting,'  said  I,  'I  didn't  know 
there  was  a  meeting.  What's  it  about,  John  V 
'  Why,  sir,'  said  John — he's  a  regular  old  charac- 
ter, you  know, been  there  forever — 'it's  one  of  them 
'ere  ladies'  meetings — unfortunate  sisters  and  such- 
like. You'd  better  stay,  sir,'  said  he,  with  a  sly 
twinkle  in  his  keen  old  eyes,  'for,  between  yon 
and  me,  tliere's  a  lot  of  old  maids  gets  together 
here,  and  they  talk  and  talk  and  talk,  and — well,' 
said  he, '  if  ever  I  want  to  hear  something  down- 
right BAD,  I  just  gets  behind  the  door  when  there's 
a  ladies'  meeting  on, and, sure  enough,!  hears  it.'" 

Sir  Anthony  laughed  with  the  i-est,  but  not  so 
heartily  as  was  his  wont ;  and  he  repeated  his  dole- 
ful question,  "  What  the  devil  am  I  to  do  ?" 

"  Well  now,  if  I  were  you,"  suggested  Urquhart, 
gravely,  "  I  should  write  back  an  effusive  letter 


DISTINCTION.  77 

of  prospective  welcome,  and  I  slionld  just  hint — 
only  just  gently  drop  a  hint,  you  know — that  the 
Scarlet  Lancers  happened  to  be  an  uncommonly 
dirty  lot,  and  that,  try  as  we  will,  we  cannot  rid 
the  barracks  of  the  hordes  they  left  behind  them 
as  a  legacy." 

"  Uordes— hordes  of  what  ?"  said  young  Rags, 
not  understanding,  though  the  light  which  sudden- 
ly irradiated  Staunton's  face  was  sufficient  to  tell 
him  plainly  that  a  loop-hole  wherewith  to  escape 
the  torture  had  been  thrown  open,  and  a  brilliant 
suggestion  made.     "  Hordes  of  what  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Live-stock,"  answered  Urquhart. 

"Rats!"  cried  Rags. 

"Beetles!"  shouted  another  voice.  "All  old 
ladies  are  frightened  of  beetles." 

"Which  is  it?"  Rags  asked. 

"£uffs  r^  answered  Urquhart,  tersely. 

And  in  consequence  of  this  suggestion  a  diplo- 
matic and  cautious  letter  went  back  by  return  of 
post  to  Miss  Staunton,  written  in  Anthony  Staun- 
ton's handwriting,  but  in  reality  the  outcome  of 
Thomas  Urquhart's  clever  brain. 

"  My  deak  Aunt  Theodosia,"  it  ran  — "  Of 
course  I  shall  be  dehghted  if  you  and  Aunt  Lavinia 


78  WITH  THE  TWENTY-FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

will  pay  me  a  visit  a  la  Madame  De  Swinton  ;  but 
as  I  am  not  commanding  officer,  nor  even  for  the 
matter  of  that  a  field-officer,  you  will,  1  am  afraid, 
have  to  rough  it  a  great  deal  more  than  ever  she 
had  to  do  when  visiting  her  son.  The  quarter- 
master is  going  to  do  the  best  he  can  in  the  mat- 
ter of  quarters  [as  a  matter-of-fact  the  quarter- 
master had  never  even  heard  the  subject  men- 
tioned], but  they  will  riecessarily  be  very  limited. 
I  don't  know  what  to  say  about  Aunt  Lavinia's 
book — ['  Yes,  call  it  a  hooli^  it  sounds  important,' 
said  Urquhart,  when  Sir  Anthony  had  got  thus 
far] — I'm  afraid  the  ordinary  dragoon  can't  be 
got  to  read  anything  of  that  sort.  You  see  they 
have  to  work  pretty  hard,  and  don't  get  very  much 
time  to  themselves,  when,  of  course,  they  like  to 
get  out  of  barracks  if  they  can.  But,  all  the 
same,  it  is  awfully  good  of  her  to  think  of  try- 
ins:  it."  Then  there  followed  a  little  affectionate 
wind  -  up,  and  he  remained  "  Your  affectionate 
nephew,  Anthony  Staunton." 

By  return  of  post  there  came  back  an  agonized 
little  note  from  Miss  Thcodosia — "  Why,  my  dear 
boy,  did  you  not  at  least  make  the  attempt  to  damp 
Lavinia's  ardor  somewhat  ?  Her  heart  is  now  more 
Bet  upon  coming  than  evei'." 


DISTINCTION.  79 

Sir  Anthony  promptly  wrote  back,  or  at  least 
Urqnliart  did  through  him,  to  the  effect  that  the 
quartermaster  had,  with  a  great  deal  of  trouble, 
made  arrangements  for  their  accommodation,  and 
that  preparations  were  being  pushed  on  according- 
ly with  as  much  speed  as  possible.  "  And,  by-the- 
bye,"  the  letter  ended, "  do  either  of  you  chance  to 
mind  a  few  bugs  ?    Some  people  don't, you  know." 

Miss  Tlieodosia  replied,  without  so  much  as  the 
loss  of  a  single  post,  "  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  are 
afflicted  with  those  disgusting  and  loathsome  in- 
sects? They  don't  bite  me;  all  the  times  we  have 
been  in  Venice,  I  never  had  so  much  as  a  single 
bite;  but  Lavinia  is  a  perfect  martyr  to  them, and 
"Warner  declares  if  one  is  within  a  mile  of  her  it 
will  get  to  her.  I  am  very  sorry  for  you,  my  dear 
boy,"  the  good  old  lady  wound  up,  "  but  believe 
me  there  are  worse  things  in  life  even  than  hugs.'' 

"  Maiden  aunts  who  are  skittish  at  sixty,"  com- 
mented Urquhart,  with  a  grim  laugh.  But  still 
Miss  Theodosia's  hint  was  not  apparently  taken, 
and  Staunton  wrote  back  immediately. 

"Your  rooms  are  being  cleaned  out  to-day. 
Yes,  we  have  bugs,  swarms  of  them ;  but  with 
plenty  of  Condy  and  Keating  scattered  about  I 
hope  they  won't  worry  you.     They  don't  worry 


80  WITH  THE  TWENTY-FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

rae,  and  so  I  have  not  as  yet  taken  as  much  trou- 
ble to  get  rid  of  tliein  as  some  of  tlie  other  fel- 
lows. I  shall  have  a  good  piano  sent  in  and  a  few 
plants  in  bloom,  so  everything  will  look  very  com- 
fortable by  the  time  yon  come.  By-the-bye,  I  hope 
you  don't  mind  the  smell  of  stale  tobacco ;  I  cavbt 
get  it  out  of  ray  carpets  and  hangings." 

"I  simply  abominate  tobacco,  as  yon  know  or 
ought  to  know,  ray  dear  boy,"  wrote  back  Miss 
Theodosia.  "And  I  gave  your  Aunt  Lavinia  fair 
warning  this  raorning  when  I  read  your  letter  to 
her,  that  if  the  smell  of  it  is  not  out  of  your  car- 
pets and  hangings  when  she  persists  in  dragging 
me  out  of  my  own  airy  and  luxurious  house  to 
what  you  call  '  rough  it '  in  barracks,  I  shall  cer- 
tainly have  an  imraediate  return  of  the  protracted 
and  violent  sickness  from  which  I  invariably  suf- 
fer on  the  journey  to  and  from  the  Continent.  La- 
vinia is  exceedingly  self-willed,  and  in  spite  of  the 
stale  smoke  and  the — [there  was  a  slight  hesitation 
here,  as  if  the  old  lady  had  made  a  brave  attempt 
to  nerve  herself  to  write  the  word  itself,  but  that 
refinement  and  a  horror  of  the  subject  had  been 
too  much  for  her] — creatures,  still  holds  firmly  to 
their  coming.  Warner  gave  notice  this  morning, 
as  Lavinia  insisted  that  it  was  all  raealy-minded 


DISTINCTION.  81 

nonsense,  and  if  her  mistress,  quite  as  much  of  a 
martyr  to  them  as  herself,  could  for  a  good  cause 
put  up  with  tliem,  there  was  no  reason  why  the 
maid  should  give  herself  airs  on  the  subject.  As 
I  said,  Warner  gave  notice.  She  has  been  with 
us  twenty-three  years,  and  what  we  shall  do  with- 
out her  I  really  do  not  know.  The  under-maid 
Phcebe  is  young,  very  pretty,  and  particularly  gid- 
dy. Lavinia  has  told  her  to  prepare  for  the  jour- 
ney, to  the  girl's  unconcealed  delight.  I  don't 
know — I  cannot  tell  what  may  be  the  conse- 
quences." 

"  I  can,"  remarked  Urquhart,  when  Staunton 
had  read  thus  far.     "  Well  ?" 

"  At  the  same  time,"  the  letter  went  on, "  I  can 
see  plainly  enough  that  your  Aunt  Lavinia  is  dis- 
tinctly uneasy  in  her  mind.  She  told  me  to  ask 
you  whether  you  had  got  rid  of  them  or  not?' 

"It  will  be  all  right,"  was  Urquhart's  comment ; 
"slie  won't  come  now." 

"I  shall  bolt  if  she  does,"  answered  Sir  An- 
thony, positively. 

"  But  she  won't,"  asserted  Urquhart,  in  a  tone 
of  quiet  conviction;  "and  now  write  your  an- 
swer." 

And  this  was  the  answer  that  Staunton  sent — 

6 


83  WITH  THE  TWENTY- FIFTH   DRAGOONS. 

"My  deak  Aunt  Theodosia, — 1  have  just  come 
off  a  court  -  martial,  and  am  writing  in  haste  to 
catch  the  post.  I  am  awfully  sorry  about  War- 
ner. Can't  you  persuade  her  to  stop?  All  the 
same  I  shouldn't  try  to  bring  her  here.  Phoebe 
won't  mind  a  few  bugs,  and  the  men  will  be  sure 
to  give  her  a  good  time.  There  are  not  many 
pretty  girls  in  Wharnecliffe,  and  if  I  remember, 
Phoebe  is  a  marvellously  pretty  lassie."  ["Never 
saw  the  girl  in  my  life !"  Staunton  remarked,  with 
a  laugh,  as  he  wrote  the  words.]  "  As  to  the  bugs 
themselves — well,  I  really  must  confess  we  have 
not  got  rid  of  them.  You  see  they  are  all  over 
everywhere,  and  as  fast  as  we  clear  them  out  they 
come  in  from  the  other  rooms  in  the  same  cor- 
ridor. I've  told  my  servant  to  catch  a  hundred 
or  so  of  good  lively  specimens,  to  let  Aunt  La- 
vinia  see  what  manner  of  things  she  may  ex- 
pect." 

And  the  following  morning,  before  breakfast, 
Sir  Anthony's  servant  came  to  him  with  a  tele- 
gram— a  message  of  agony. 

"  On  no  account  send  a  hundred  of  those  things 
here — or  even  one.     Am  writing." 


to- 


&• 


And  when  Sir  Anthony  took  the  orange  mis- 


DISTINCTION.  83 

sive  to  Urquliart,  Urqubart  sat  down  and  simply 
roared  over  it. 

Later  in  the  day  the  promised  letter  arrived. 

"My  dear  Boy, — Your  Aunt  Lavinia  nearly 
had  a  fit.  She  did  indeed  faint,  or  nearly  so,  and 
Warner  had  to  bring  salts  and  vinegar  and  what 
not.  I  do  not  think  that  she  had  believed  there 
were  as  many  as  you  said ;  but  when  j'ou  suggest- 
ed sending  a  hundred,  as  if  they  were  tliere  for 
the  picking  up,  she  at  once  gave  up  all  idea  of 
ever  setting  foot  in  Wharuecliffe  Barracks;  and 
slie  and  Warner,  who  have  not  spoken  for  more 
than  a  week,  made  it  up. 

"  I  trust  when  you  next  come  to  see  us,  you 
will  be  very  careful  about  your  things.  Your 
Aunt  Lavinia  suggests  that  you  and  all  your  be- 
longings shall  be  placed  in  a  temporary  quaran- 
tine, and  thoroughly  fumigated.  Phoebe  is  bit- 
terly disappointed,  and  has  been  weeping  all  the 
morning." 

"So  that  danger  is  over,"  Urquhart  laughed. 
"  Thank  the  Lord !"  ejaculated  the  no   longer 
wretched  victim,  piously. 

"  And  henceforth,"  Lord  Archie  laughed, "  when 


84  WITH  THE  TWENTY- FIFTH   DRAGOONS. 

you  go  to  visit  your  venerated  relatives,  you  will 
enjoy  the  proud  distinction  of  being  labelled  'un- 
clean.' " 

"Better  than  the  distinction  of  looking  like  a 
fool,"  answered  Pops,  gayly. 


A  HIDDEN  HERO. 

Lord  Archie  Falconer  was  keeping  his  hunt- 
ers— to  tlie  tune  of  a  modest  couple — out  of  bar- 
racks, and  was  on  his  way  to  see  them  when  he 
chanced  to  meet  with  Marcus  Orford. 

His  way  lay  through  a  poor  and  forlorn-looking 
district,  laid  out  in  small  and  narrow  streets  of 
ugly  little  featureless  houses,  built  in  rows  to  the 
cultivation  of  notliing  but  a  certain  air  of  crushed 
and  melancholy  meek  neatness,  and  situated  about 
midway  between  the  barracks  and  the  town  of 
Wharnecliffc.  It  was  peopled  chiefly  by  such  of 
the  Benedicks  among  the  rank  and  file  of  the 
Black  Horse  as  were  not  on  the  strength  of  the 
regiment. 

Marcus  Orford  was  laughing  as  Lord  Archie 
approached  him,  and  he  felt  his  own  face  expand' 
ing  into  a  broad  smile  instantly. 

"  What  are  you  laughing  at?"  he  demanded. 

"I  found  yesterday,"  the  other  answered,  "  that 
Arnitt  was  down  with  a  severe  attack  of  conges- 
tion of  the  lungs  —  a  very  serious  case,  his  wife 


86  WITH  THE  TWENTY-FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

told  me  the  doctor  had  pronounced  it.  I  sent 
him  a  basket  of  things  down  this  morning — ice 
and  grapes  and  jelly,  and  so  on,  you  know — for, 
poor  devil,  it  must  be  hard  lines  to  be  ill  in  such 
a  hole  as  that" — jerking  his  stick  over  his  shoul- 
der to  indicate  a  row  of  squalid  little  houses  be- 
hind him — "  and  Moore  brought  back  word  that 
he  was  very  bad — as  bad  as  he  could  be.  So  I 
thought  I'd  come  round  and  hear  how  he  is  to- 
day. 'Tis  a  tidy  little  place,  but  terribly  bare  and 
comfortless,  and  I  found  half  a  dozen  youngsters 
all  squatting  about  the  door-step,  and  evidently 
expecting  evcrj^  minute  to  hear  that  the  end  had 
come.  '  Halloo,  my  man,'  said  I  to  the  biggest 
boy,  a  lad  of  seven  or  eight,  '  ai-e  you  one  of  Ar- 
nitt's  boys  ?'  '  Yes,  sir,  we're  all  his'n^  he  piped 
out.  '  Oh,  are  you  V  I  said,  thinking  Arnitt  may 
well  look  as  hungry  as  he  generally  does.  'And 
how  is  your  father  this  afternoon?'  'Yery  bad, 
sir — mortal  bad — as  bad's  he  can  be,'  the  young- 
ster piped  out  in  reply.  '  An'  the  dorctor  'e  saj's 
if  father  lives  till  morning  there'll  be  some  'opes ; 
but  if  he  don't  live  till  morning  he  won't  have 
no  'opes  at  all.'  " 

Lord  Archie  laughed  outright,  and  Marcus  Or- 
ford  continued :  "  But  I  don't  believe  Arnitt  will 


A  HroDEN  HERO.  87 

live  till  morning,  poor  chap ;  and  if  not,  what  his 
wife  will  do  with  all  those  youngsters  is  rather  a 
hard  question." 

"Yes;  decent  fellow,  Arnitt;  I  had  him  with 
m}-  horses  for  a  time.  Pity  he  married  without 
waiting  for  leave ;  it's  such  a  drag  on  a  man,  un- 
less the  wife  happens  to  have  some  business  of 
her  own ;  and  Arnitt,  poor  beggar,  is  so  overrid- 
den with  children,  and  his  wife's  line  of  business 
not  of  much  use  to  her." 

"  What  was  it  ?" 

"  Oh,  she  was  a  circus-rider,  and  a  ripping  smart 
girl,  too.  I  remember  seeing  her  the  year  I  join- 
ed. She  had  a  pretty  little  face,  and  a  pretty  lit- 
tle figure,  too,  and  a  lot  of  light  crinkling  fair 
hair  that  seemed  to  wave  all  over  her  head  in 
shining  flecks  of  light ;  I  never  saw  such  jolly 
hair." 

"She's  a  pretty  little  woman  now," Marcus  Or- 
ford  remarked.     "  Well  ?" 

"  We  were  all  more  or  less  gone  on  her,"  Lord 
Archie  continued.  "  The  little  favorite,  we  used 
to  call  her.  Iler  circus  name  was  Mademoiselle 
Favorita — her  own,  God  knows !  However,  none 
of  the  fellows  could  make  any  impression  upon 
her  whatever,  not  the  very  smallest,  and  one  af- 


88  WITH  THE  TWENTY-FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

ternoon,  about  six  o'clock,  I  met  her  going  down 
to  the  circus  with  Arnitt,  and  then  I  knew  why. 
And,  sure  enough,  very  shortly  after  that  she  and 
Arnitt  got  married.  If  he'd  put  in  for  leave,  and 
waited  till  he  got  it,  wliich  he  would  have  done, 
they  might  have  got  on  vei-y  well ;  but  he  mar- 
ried her  straight  out  of  hand,  and  there  they  have 
stuck  ever  since.  Arnitt  ought  to  have  got  on, 
for  he's  a  gentleman — a  'Yarsity  man,  too;  but 
he's  been  unlucky,  unlucky  all  round." 

"Tou  don't  mean  it,"  Orford  cried,  in  huge 
surprise,  "  that  he's  a  gentleman  —  and  a  'Varsity 
man  ?" 

"Oh,  but  I  do, though — an  Oxford  man.  I  re- 
membered his  face  distinctly  as  a  man  of  Bra- 
zenose  when  I  was  at  Paul's,  but  for  the  very  life  I 
couldn't  then,  and  have  never  been  able  since  to 
put  a  name  to  it.  And  yet  I  almost  fancy — and 
I  think  of  it  every  time  I  get  a  fair  look  at  him 
— that  I've  seen  the  face  with  a  tuft  above  it." 

"  A  tuft !  you  don't  mean  it  ?"  Orford  cried. 

"  Yes,  I  do.  I  get  back  to  a  certain  point,  and 
then  I  seem  to  come  to  a  dead  wall,  wliich  blocks 
me  com})letely." 

"Oh,  you  must  be  mistaken,  or  bo  mixing  him 
up  with  somebody  else,"  Oi-ford    declai-cd.      "It 


A  HIDDEN  HERO.  89 

couldn't  be,  jou  know ;  somebody  would  be  sure 
to  recognize  him." 

"Well,  T  may  be,"  Lord  Archie  admitted— "I 
may  be,  but  still  I've  had  the  same  impression 
ever  since  I  have  been  in  the  reginaent.  Still,  as 
you  say,  I  may  be  mixing  him  up  with  somebody 
else." 

"  Why  don't  yon  ask  him  outright  ?" 
"I  did  hint  at  it  once.  One  of  the  horses  was 
sick,  and  we  had  a  good  deal  of  trouble  with  him ; 
and  one  afternoon  I  was  watching  Arnitt  put  a 
bandage  on,  when  the  conviction  that  I  had  known 
him  before  came  upon  me  stronger  than  ever. 
'  Tliis  is  not  the  first  time  you  and  I  have  had  to 
do  with  a  horse  together,  Arnitt,'  I  said  to  him. 
He  looked  up  at  me  quickly,  a  flash  of  a  look  as 
if  I  might  be  a  detective  who  had  been  tracking 
him  for  years,  and  had  hunted  him  down  at  last. 
'  For  God's  sake,  don't,  my  lord,'  he  said,  all  in  a 
hurry;  'it's  no  use  pretending  that  I  was  once 
a — '  'An  under -grad  at  Brazenose,' I  put  in; 
when,  poor  beggar,  he  gave  such  a  cringing  shiv- 
er that  I  felt  sure  I'd  put  my  hand  on  an  open 
wound,  and  wished  I  had  let  him  alone.  '  I  want 
to  forget  all  that,  my  lord ;  I  sunk  that  life  and 
everything  connected  with  it  long  since,' he  said. 


90  WITH  THE  TWENTY-FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

desperately.  'I  wouldn't  have  joined  the  Black 
Horse  if  I'd  ever  guessed  you  would  have  been 
gazetted  to  it'  '  Oh,  it's  all  right.  I'll  not  remind 
you  of  it  again,  Arnitt,'  I  told  him  ;  for,  of  course, 
I  didn't  want  to  make  his  burden  any  heavier  for 
him  to  carry.  I  knew  his  face,  but  could  not  re- 
member his  name,  and  should  not  try  to  find  out. 
'Only,' I  said, 'I  do  remember  perfectly  well  that 
■you  didn't  call  me  "my  lord"  in  the  old  days.' 
'  Don't  talk  about  the  old  days,'  he  burst  out.  '  I 
forfeited  all  that  made  them  worth  having,  and 
I  can  bear  it;  but  don't  remind  me  of  them,  if 
you  know  wliat  pity  is — don't.'  So  of  course  I 
told  him  I  wouldn't,  and  no  more  I  did.  I  nev- 
er tried  to  find  him  out,  but  I've  often  thought 
about  it,  and  tried  to  fix  the  name  I  knew  belong- 
ed to  the  face,  but  I  never  could ;  it  has  always 
eluded  my  memory  just  as  a  dream  often  does- 
Yes,  there  is  a  queer  story  at  the  back  of  Arnitt's 
hard  life,  I  know  that.  It's  a  strange  fate  for  a 
man  to  have  been  a  tuft  at  Brazenose,  and  then 
a  private  in  a  marching  regiment,  with  a  wife 
picked  out  of  a  circus.  And  he's  fond  of  her, 
too;  oh  yes,  for  she  is  not  a  bad  sort,  and  was  al- 
ways pretty.  Yes,  it's  a  queer  story,  very.  Well, 
I  must  be  getting  along — by-bye." 


A  HIDDEN  HERO.  91 

"  By-bye,"  returned  Orford,  and  went  on  his  way, 
wondering  much  about  the  story  he  had  just  heard. 
Meantime  Lord  Archie  went  farther  along  the 
street,  and  turned  in  at  an  archway  between  two 
of  the  Httle  featureless  houses,  which  brought  him 
into  the  stable-yard.  He  just  cast  an  eye  over  the 
animals,  and  then  inquired  of  the  groom  which 
was  Arnitt's  house. 

The  man  pointed  it  out,  and  Lord  Archie  cross- 
ed the  narrow,  ill-paved  little  street,  and  knocked 
softly  on  the  panel  of  the  door.  It  was  opened 
by  the  pretty,  fair-haired  wife,  who  looked  worn  to 
death,  and  had  a  baby  in  her  arms ;  two  older 
children,  yet  little  more  than  infants,  clung  to  her 
skirts,  and  the  bigger  ones  stood  in  the  background 
looking  shyly  on. 

"  Good  -  day,  Mrs.  Arnitt.  IIow  is  your  hus- 
band ?"  he  asked. 

"Oh, niy  lord,  he's  very  ill," she  answered,  with 
quivering  lips  and  eyes  brimming  over,  not  because 
she  had  been  weeping  much,  but  because  the  sym- 
pathetic tone  went  straight  to  her  heart,  and  made 
it  quiver  like  a  harp  swept  by  a  strong  hand; 
"he's  very  ill  indeed;  and  Dr.  Granger  scarcely 
gives  me  any  hope  at  all." 

"Who's  attending  to  him?     Have  you  got  a 


92  WITU  THE  TWENTY- FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

mirse  or  anjbodj  to  help  you?"  Lord  Archie  in- 
quired. 

"  Yes,  my  lord  ;  Mr.  Orford  sent  one  in  as  soon 
as  ever  he  heard  Arnitt  was  ill — very  ill,  that  is. 
But  he  will  never  get  over  it,  my  lord — never." 
And  lowering  her  voice  almost  to  a  whisper :  "He's 
got  something  on  his  mind;  I  know  it;  I'm  sure 
of  it." 

"What  kind  of  a  somcthins:?"  Lord  Archie 
asked. 

"  I  can't  tell  that,  my  lord,"  she  answered  ;  "  but 
something  there  is,  for  certain.  Arnitt  is  a  very 
quiet,  close  sort  of  man,  and  though  he's  one  of 
the  best  husbands  that  ever  drew  breath,  and  has 
never  given  me  a  cross  word  since  we  were  mar- 
ried, and  has  never  raised  his  hand  to  one  of  the 
cliildren — and  tliey  are  trying  at  times,  there's  no 
denying  it — he's  never  told  me  a  word  about  his 
past  life,  never  one.  I  don't  know  anything  about 
liim,  my  lord,  not  even  where  he  was  born,  or 
wliether  he  has  a  relation  in  all  the  world.  But 
he  isn't  like  me,  my  lord  ;  and  though  he's  no  bet- 
ter now  than  a  common  soldier,  he's  a  gentleman, 
Arnitt  is;  and  sometimes  I  could  fancy  he  was 
even  more  than  that." 

Lord  Archie's  conscience  pricked  him  a  little 


A  HIDDEN   UERO.  93 

that  he  was  obh'ged  in  honor  to  keep  fi-oin  this 
distressed  little  soul,  with  her  pretty,  fair  hair  and 
blue,  tear-drowned  eyes,  the  fact  that  he  knew  the 
truth  of  much  of  what  she  was  saying.  Then  a 
sudden  thought  came  into  his  mind. 

"Would  he  like  to  see  me,  do  you  think?"  he 
asked. 

"  I  feel  sure  he  would,  my  lord,"  she  answered. 

"  Well,  you  might  ask  him,"  he  said,  for  he  had 
no  desire  to  disturb  what  probably  were  his  ex- 
groom's  last  hours  by  recalling  painfully  to  his 
mind  the  incidents  of  the  past — incidents  which 
he  most  likely  needed  no  stimulus  to  remember, 
and  which  would  now  be  crowding  back  upon 
him,  as  the  past  does  when  we  have  nearly  done 
with  the  present. 

So  she  went  up  the  creaking  little  stairs  with 
the  baby  in  her  arms,  leaving  Lord  Archie  stand- 
ing in  the  midst  of  the  group  of  awe-stricken  and 
bewildered  youngsters,  lie  spoke  to  one  or  two 
of  them,  the  eldest  boy  among  them,  and  found 
that  Marcus  Orford's  little  anecdote  had  been  lib- 
erally doctored  in  the  matter  of  pronunciation  and 
accent,  and  that  he,  in  common  with  all  the  others, 
spoke  very  well  indeed,  and  if  not  quite  up  to  his 
own  standard,  still  very  much  above  the  averao-e 


94  WITH  THE  TWENTY- FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

of  a  better  class  of  children  than  those  living  in 
that  part  of  Wharnecliffe. 

And  then  Mrs.  Arnitt  appeared  again,  and  said 
the  sick  man  was  very  anxious  to  see  his  loi'dship 
if  he  would  go  up.   So  Lord  Archie  went  up  alone. 

It  was  a  poor  little  room  in  which  he  found 
^himself  when  he  reached  the  top  of  the  creaking 
stairway,  but  it  was  clean  and  orderly.  The  quilt 
upon  the  bed  was  white,  if  coarse,  and  there  was 
a  pleasant-faced,  middle-aged  nurse  in  a  white  cap 
sitting  beside  the  patient,  who  rose  and  made  her 
obeisance  when  he  entered  under  the  low  door- 
way. Arnitt  made  a  sign  to  her  to  leave  them, 
and  Lord  Archie  advanced  to  the  side  of  the  bed. 

"  Why,  Arnitt,"  he  said,  "  I  am  very  sorry  to  find 
you  so  ill ;  what  ever  have  you  been  doing  to  get 
like  this?" 

"  I've  about  come  to  the  end  of  the  journey," 
said  the  sick  man,  in  a  painful  undertone,  scarce- 
ly more  than  a  whisper. 

"  Oh !  I  hope  not,  I  hope  not,"  put  in  the  officer, 
kindly.  "You  must  keep  up  your  heart.  You 
know  while  there's  life  there's  hope,  and  a  man 
just  in  his  prime,  as  you  are,  mustn't  think  of  giv- 
ing in  yet  a  while.  Besides,  there  are  others  to 
think  of,  you  know,  Arnitt — there's  your  wife,  and 


A  HIDDEN  HERO.  95 

there  are  your  children — jou  must  make  an  effort 
and  do  your  best  to  live  for  their  sakes." 

"  Poor  souls,  God  help  them  !"  murmured  Arnitt, 
feebly.  "  I've  never  been  much  good  to  her,  and 
she's  been  the  best  and  dearest  of  wives  to  me; 
but  there'll  be  a  provision  for  her  and  for  them, 
never  fear ;  and,  Lord  Archie,  it  was  about  that  I 
was  anxious  to  see  you  when  Nelly  told  me  you 
were  down  below." 

"Ought  you  to  be  talking  so  much?"  Lord  Ar- 
chie asked,  gently  interrupting.  He  had  no- 
ticed the  change  in  Arnitt's  manner  of  address- 
ing him  —  a  change  f rom  "  my  lord"  to  "Lord 
Archie"  —  and  it  made  the  man  more  familiar 
than  ever. 

"  Oh  yes,  yes— what  will  it  matter  in  the  end  ?" 
impatiently.  "Just  a  few  minutes  more  or  less. 
I  must  tell  you  some  things,  and  get  you  to  help 
my  boy  into  the  rights  and  the  position  which  I 
had  to  forego  and  give  up,  I  know  you  will,  when 
I  have  told  you  my  story,  beginning  from  the  time 
when  you  were  xlrchie  Falconer  of  Paul's,  and  I 
was  Studham  of  Brazenose." 

Lord  Archie  uttered  a  sharp  cry  of  recognition 
and  surprise.  "  Studham  of  Brazenose,  and  in  the 
ranks  of  the  Twenty-lifth  Dragoons !     Good  heav- 


96  WITH  THE  TWENTY-FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

ens !  what  could  have  possessed  you  ?  You  must 
have  been  mad — mad !" 

"No,  I  wasn't  mad,  not  in  the  least;  I  was  only 
the  victim  of  circumstances,"  answered  the  sick 
man,  with  a  sad  smile.  "  But,  tell  me,  didn't  you 
know  all  along  ?" 

"  I  never  guessed  it.  I  never  suspected  it  for  a 
moment.  I  only  knew  I  had  known  you  long  ago 
in  the  old  'Varsity  days.  Yes;  of  course  you  are 
Studham  ;  but,  heavens  !  how  you  are  altered  !" 

"Fourteen  years  of  the  ranks  do  make  a  change 
in  a  man,  and  the  Studham  you  knew  was  very 
young  and  very  foolish,"  the  other  answered. 

"  Then  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?  Why  don't  you 
claim  your  own,  and  take  your  own  place  in  the 
world?  It's  absurd  to  think  of  you,  Studham — 
nay,  but  you  are  not  Studham,  but  Mannersleigh, 
now,  since  your  father  died — dragging  out  such  a 
life  as  yours  must  of  necessity  be.  It's  absurd,  and 
we  must  get  you  out  of  this  at  once." 

"  No,  no ;  it's  a  poor  little  hole,  but  I've  been 
happy  in  it.  I'll  stay  here  to  the  end  of  the  chap- 
ter. We've  got  to  the  last  page,  I  fancy.  Still, 
my  children  have  rights,  and  I  have  kept  silence 
long  enough." 

"  For  Mannersleigh ;  that  is,  for  your  brother  Taff." 


A  HIDDEN  HERO.  97 

"Yes,  Taff;  do  jou  ever  liear  anything  of  him? 
Have  you  any  idea  what  kind  of  a  life  lie  is  leading  ?" 

Lord  Archie  laughed.  "  Oh,  he  has  turned  over 
a  new  leaf;  gave  up  the  old  ways  with  the  old 
name.  But  how  came  he  to  prove  your  death? 
He  must  have  done  it  to  claim  and  gain  your  fa- 
ther's title." 

"I  don't  know;  I  have  not  heard  a  word  of 
him  for  years— never  since  the  day  I  last  saw  him, 
when  I  told  him  I  had  pvooi,  proof  oi  his  guilt, 
the  guilt  for  which  I  have  borne  the  blame  all 
these  fourteen  long  weary  years  past.  I  gave  him 
the  opportunity  of  flying  the  country,  which  he 
scouted,  declaring  I  must  be  mad,  crazy,  idiotic  to 
dream  of  suspecting  him." 
"Of  what?" 

"  Murder !"  the  sick  man  answered.  "  He  foul- 
ly and  cruelly  murdered  my  mother's  niece,  our 
cousin,  because  he  had  made—  But  what  am  I 
saying?  I  am  wandering  in  my  head,  that  I  go 
blabbing  out  the  secret  I  have  kept  all  these 
years  to  my  own  hurt  and  ruin."  He  looked  anx- 
ionsly  at  Lord  Archie  as  he  spoke,  as  if  he  thought 
he  would  rush  out  of  the  room  and  proclaim  the 
whole  of  his  secret  to  the,  world  at  large  j  but 
Lord  Archie  soon  set  him  at  rest. 

7 


98  WITH  THE  TWENTY-FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

"Don't  worry  yourself.  You  didn't  mean  to 
tell  me?  Well,  I  shall  never  disclose  it;  don't 
worry  yourself  about  it.  And  now  tell  me  what 
steps  I  shall  have  to  take  to  secure  your  son's 
rights.  Have  you  made  a  wall,  and  left  your  pa- 
pers in  order  ?" 

"Everything!  They  are  all  in  that  little  tin 
box.  As  to  my  will,  that  is  made  too;  but  I 
should  like  to  add  something  to  it,  if  you  will 
consent." 

"  I  ?     Oh,  of  course ;  what  is  it  ?" 

"To  act  as  trustee  to  my  children  and  their 
mother.  I  dare  say  she  will  marry  again,  and 
I've  provided  a  suitable  income  in  case  of  it." 

"  I'll  do  it,  of  course ;  but,  Studhara,  tell  me," 
reverting  instinctively  to  the  old  name  of  their 
'Varsity  days, "  why,  wlien  you  had  the  power  to 
take  everything  and  provide  properly  and  suitably 
for  your  wife  and  children  —  why  did  you  bury 
yourself  in  the  ranks,  and  let  that  young  ruffian 
Taff  usurp  your  place  ?" 

"  I'll  tell  you.  As  I  said,  Taff  flatly  refused  to 
clear  out  of  the  way,  and  challenged  me  —  yes, 
actually  challenged  me  to  produce  my  proofs 
against  him.  1  had  them  safe  enough,  and  so  I 
told  him — they're  in  that  box  now,     I  shouldn't 


A   HIDDExNf  UERO.  99 

have  spoken  —  what  would  have  been  the  good  ? 
It  would  have  broken  my  father's  heart,  and  tar- 
nished our  old  name ;  and  the  girl  was  dead,  had 
been  lying  dead  among  the  sedge  and  the  bul- 
rushes for  hours  before  we  found  her.  All  the 
ruin  that  could  come  upon  the  Mannersleigli  fam- 
ily would  not  bring  her  back  again,  so  I  deter- 
mined to  keep  silence,  simply  because  I  could  not 
see  the  good  of  speaking. 

"I  had  been  all  that  day  sitting  with  my  lord, 
but  I  happened  to  be  the  first  to  find  the  poor 
girl,  lying  face  down  in  the  water,  and  as  I  turned 
her  over  I  tore  open  the  bosom  of  her  gown  in 
doing  it,  when  there  fell  out  a  letter  in  Taff's 
handwriting,  asking  her  to  meet  him  in  that  place 
at  four  in  the  afternoon.  I  concealed  it  instinct- 
ively, and  seeing  her  hand  clinched  upon  some- 
thing, forced  it  open  and  took  from  it  a  locket 
which  he  had  worn  on  his  watch-chain  at  lunch- 
eon. I  knew  it,  because  we  had  all  noticed  it. 
There  was  a  bit  of  broken  chain  hano-inor  to  it,  evi- 
dently  where  slie  had  clutched  at  it  in  the  last 
agony  of  her  struggle  with  him.  I  showed  the 
letter  and  the  locket  to  him  that  very  nio-ht,  and 
then,  owing  to  the  gossip  of  one  of  the  servants 
who  had  seen  me  take  the  locket,  or  rather,  had 


100         WITH  THE  TWENTY-FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

seen  me  take  something  out  of  her  hand,  I  was 
put  upon  the  trial  as  first  witness.  As  soon  as  I 
saw  in  the  report  that  it  was  known  I  had  the 
locket,  I  made  up  my  mind  to  clear  out  of  the 
way  at  once,  for  though  I  could  keep  silence,  I 
could  not  give  false  evidence.  I  could  easier 
bear  ruin  and  social  extinction  for  myself  than  I 
could  break  my  father's  heart  by  putting  a  rope 
round  my  brother's  neck.  So  that  night  I  bolted, 
and  then  I  got  over  to  Ireland  and  enlisted  in  the 
Twenty-iifth.  But  I  didn't  know,  I  never  heard, 
he  was  dead.     When  was  it  ?" 

"About  a  year  ago," Lord  Archie  replied. 

"  Ah,  I  never  heard  it,"  sighing ;  "  and  you  say 
Taff  has  turned  over  a  new  leaf  ?" 

"  Presides  at  philanthropic  and  religious  meet- 
ings, and  so  forth.  I  believe  he's  quite  a  shining 
light  among  the  unco'  guid." 

«  Ah,  he'll  need  it  all !"  dryly.  "I  fear,  though, 
there's  not  much  real  good  in  him.  lie  was  al- 
ways a  bad  lot,  but  my  father  loved  him  best  of 
us  all.  Well,  my  time  is  getting  short,  and  if  you 
will  get  me  a  lawyer  here  at  once,  I'll  settle  about 
the  trusteeship ;  the  sooner  the  better ;  there's  no 
time  to  lose.  For  the  rest  it  will  soon  be  over. 
I  shall  not  see  to  -  morrow ;  of  that  I  am  certain. 


A-HIm)E^'•  HERO.  101 

As  soon  as  you  hear  of  it,  I  want  you  to  go  and 
see  Taff,  and  tell  him  all  I  have  told  you ;  tell 
him  that  you  hold  my  written  word,  that  it  is  all 
true,  that  unless  he  admits  my  boy's  claim,  and 
allows  him  to  take  his  place  without  delay,  you 
have  my  orders  to  disclose  everything  —  every- 
tliing !  But  you  will  have  no  trouble;  and  I 
should  like  to  lie  in  the  old  church-yard  at  home 
beside  my  mother.  You'll  do  all  this  for  me, 
Archie  ?"  anxiously. 

"  I'll  do  it  all  to  the  best  of  my  power,"  said 
Lord  Archie,  with  a  great  lump  in  his  throat  and 
a  white  mist  dancing  before  his  eyes,  so  that  the 
sick  man  and  the  little  meagre  room  were  blotted 
out  from  his  vision. 

"  I  didn't  know  he  had  gone,  or  I  should  have 
done  it  before.  I  always  meant  to  put  my  chil- 
dren in  their  own  place,  but  I  didn't  know  the  old 
man  was  dead.  I  only  kept  out  of  the  way  for 
his  sake ;  it  was  all  for  his  sake." 

Lord  Archie  rose  to  his  feet.  "I'll  go  for  a 
lawyer  at  once ;  but,  Studham,  old  fellow,  can't 
you  make  an  effort  and  get  well?  I  wish  you 
would." 

"  It's  too  late  now,  Archie ;  but  thank  you  all 
the  same." 


103         WITH  THE  TWENTY-FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

"  It  seems  such  a  pity,"  regretfully. 
"  It  can't  be  helped,"  patiently ;  "  and  I  kept  it 
from  him." 

And  that  night  Private  John  Arnitt  died,  and  a 
week  later  was  buried  as  John  George  Aliired, 
tenth  Earl  of  Maunersleigh,  when  Stephen,  his 
son,  reigned  in  his  stead. 


A  REGIMENTAL  GHOST. 

Although  the  little  town  of  Wharnecliffe  was 
sucli  a  bright  and  cheery  spot,  and  the  cavalry 
barracks  such  favorite  quarters  with  the  gay  and 
gallant  heavy  and  light  horse,  which  go  to  make 
up  that  part  of  the  Army  which  is  called  the  Cav- 
alry of  the  Line,  the  barracks  were  once  the  scene 
of  a  very  dreadful  tragedy,  which  happened  dur- 
ing the  time  that  the  White  Dragoons  had  them  in 
possession ;  for  during  the  small  hours  of  a  morn- 
ing, after  a  particularly  gay  and  rollicking  guest- 
night,  a  young  officer,  holding  the  rank  of  lieuten- 
ant, was  foully  murdered,  done  to  death  by  the 
stab  of  a  sharp-pointed  knife  driven  right  to  the 
very  shaft  in  his  back,  but  why  and  by  whom  to 
this  day  never  ti-anspired.  The  strictest  investi- 
gations and  inquiries  were  set  on  foot,  very  large 
rewards  were  offered,  but  in  spite  of  all  the  ef- 
forts of  the  best  detectives  in  Scotland  Yard,  urged 
forward  by  every  officer  in  the  regiment  to  do 
even  better  than  their  very  best,  the  mystery  re- 


104  WITH  THE  TWENTY-FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

mained  a  mystery,  unravelled  and  unexplained — 
one  of  the  many  murders  which  do  not  out. 

In  due  time  the  White  Dragoons  marched  out  of 
Wharnecliffe,  their  place  being  taken  by  the  Scar- 
let Lancers,  who,  in  their  turn,  after  staying  their 
allotted  time,  marched  out  like  their  predecessors, 
to  make  way  for  the  Black  Horse ;  and  so,  after 
making  a  horror-stricken  sensation  from  one  end 
of  the  kingdom  to  the  other,  and  being  rather 
more  than  the  traditional  nine  days'  wonder,  the 
cruel  and  dastardly  act  became  merely  a  memory, 
leaving  nothing,  not  even  a  stain,  to  show  to  those 
who  came  after  that  anything  had  ever  taken  place 
under  the  roof  which  covered  the  large  block  of 
buildings  set  apart  for  officers'  quarters,  which 
was  out  of  the  ordinary  run  of  every-day  barrack 
life. 

Naturally  enough,  during  the  time  which  the 
White  Dragoons  spent  at  Wharnecliffe  after  tlio 
tragedy  happened,  that  particular  room  remained 
untenanted.  In  time  the  place  of  the  murdered  of- 
ficer was  filled  up,  and  he  was  forgotten,  except  for 
an  occasional  sigh  and  a  "  Poor  old  Jack,  he  would 
have  liked  this,  or  he  would  have  helped  with  that;" 
but  the  room  in  which  he  had  met  his  violent  death 
remained   unused.      However,  when   the   Scarlet 


A  REGIMENTAL  GHOST.  105 

Lancers  took  over  the  barracks  from  the  outgoing 
regiment,  it  happei>ed  tliat  no  inquiries  were  made, 
and  no  information  given,  as  to  tlie  identity  of  the 
scene  of  the  tragedy;  and  it  being  a  very  good 
apartment,  "Tas  portioned  out  as  part  of  the  quar- 
termaster's quarters.  And  then,  when  the  Black 
Horse  took  over  the  barracks  in  their  turn,  the 
junior  major,  not  seeing  the  force  of  the  quarter- 
master appropriating  one  of  the"  best  rooms  in  bar- 
racks for  his  own  use,  expressed  a  wish  to  have  it 
as  one  of  the  two  to  which  his  rank  entitled  him, 
and,  as  a  matter  of  course,  got  it. 

Now  it  happened  that  the  officers  determined  to 
give  a  ball  on  the  last  day  of  the  year,  and  invita- 
tions were  early  sent  out  to  that  effect.  There 
were  unusually  good  ballrooms  down  in  the  town, 
spacious  and  lofty,  with  supper-gallery  and  half  a 
dozen  pleasant  and  cosey  little  boudoirs  of  much 
attractiveness  and  comfort;  and  it  was  perhaps 
on  this  account,  and  partly  owing  to  the  extreme 
popularity  of  the  hosts,  that  the  invitations  were 
eagerly  accepted,  and  refusals  were  few  and  far 
between  ;  and  as  a  good  many  guests  were  coming 
from  a  distance,  it  became  a  matter  of  some  im- 
portance to  settle  how  those  who,  being  for  the 
most  part  ex-officers  of  the  regiment,  would  infi- 


106         AVITH  THE  TWENTY-FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

nitely  prefer  to  be  put  up  in  barracks,  could  with 
any  convenience  be  disposed  of. 

"  There  is  the  major's  room,"  suggested  young 
Mackenzie.  "  You  know  lie  left  it  at  the  disposal 
of  any  one  whu  wanted  to  invite  a  guest  during 
his  leave;"  for  the  major  had  gone  to  the  south 
of  France  for  his  long  leave,  and  knew  how  hard 
up  for  room  his  brother-officers  would  be  about 
the  time  of  giving  the  ball. 

"  Yes,  but  Winstanley  is  to  have  that ;  and  where 
we  shall  contrive  to  put  Carstairs  is  more  than  I 
can  imagine." 

"  I'll  give  up  my  room,  and  sleep  on  the  sofa  in 
Major  Escott's  sitting-room." 

"  That  sofa  makes  into  a  bed ;  Escott  uses  it 
himself  in  case  of  emergency,"  said  Urquhart. 

"  Then  that  settles  the  question  nicely,"  said 
Mackenzie  — "  Young  Rags "  he  was  generally 
called  —  and  Carstairs,  of  the  White  Di-agoons, 
being  the  last  for  whom  sleeping  accommodation 
had  to  be  provided,  the  matter  was  dismissed  as 
settled  and  done  with. 

On  the  night  previous  to  New-year's  eve  there 
was,  as  many  of  the  guests  had  already  arrived  in 
the  town,  a  very  large  influx  of  guests  at  mess; 
and  on  the  afternoon  of  that  day  Carstairs,  of  the 


A  REGIMENTAL  GHOST.  107 

White  Dragoons,  made  his  appearance,  and  was 
duly  installed  in  young  Mackenzie's  room.  Mac- 
kenzie was  not  in  barracks  when  he  arrived,  and 
later  iu  the  evening,  when  officers  and  guests  were 
assetnbling  in  the  anteroom  before  dinner,  he  asked 
to  be  introduced  to  him,  and  expressed  a  polite 
hope  that  he  was  not  putting  him  to  any  great  in- 
convenience. "  Not  the  very  least  in  the  world," 
answered  young  Mackenzie,  heartily.  "  I  am 
camping  in  Major  Escott's  sitting-room,  and  am  as 
jolly  as  possible." 

"  Has  he  the  rooms  over  the  colonel's  ?"  Car- 
stairs  asked,  with  the  interest  of  one  who  knew 
the  barracks  well. 

"Oh  no;  St.  Aubyn, the  senior  major, has  them. 
No,  Escott's  rooms  are  on  the  right  of  the  entrance 
door,"  Mackenzie  answered. 

"Ground-floor?"  the  other  inquired. 

"Yes,"  Mackenzie  answered.  "I  have  the  sit- 
ting-room, which  comes  first,  and  Winstanley  has 
the  bedroom." 

"  I  wonder  he  took  those  rooms,"  said  Carstairs. 

"  Why  ?     They're  the  best  in  barracks." 

"  Yes,  I  know ;  but  the  one  next  the  front  door 
was  the  room  where  poor  Jack  Donovan  was  mur- 
dered." 


108         WITH  THE  TWENTY- FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

"  Good  heavens !  yon  don't  say  so.  I  don't  be- 
lieve the  major  or  anybody  else  ever  thought  of 
asking  which  was  the  room," Mackenzie  cried.  "I 
dare  say  he  wouldn't  have  taken  it  if  he'd  known, 
much  less  have  asked  for  it,  for  he's  rather  a  nerv- 
ous, superstitious  sort  of  man,  I  fancy." 

"Will  you  mind  sleeping  there?"  asked  Car- 
stairs,  feeling  a  tinge  of  compunction  for  having 
turned  the  lad  out  of  his  own  quarters. 

"  Not  a  bit  in  the  world,  bless  you,"  tlie  lad  an- 
swered. "  I  can't  say  J  believe  in  ghosts — shouldn't 
believe  in  one  if  I  saw  one,  which  isn't  a  very  like- 
ly thing  to  happen  to  me  or  anybody  else.  In  fact 
I  should  rather  like  to  see  a  specimen.  By  Jove  ! 
I'd  give  it  a  warm  welcome."  Then  he  sighed 
involuntarily:  "Ah,  but  poor  dear  old  Jack,  what 
a  good  fellow  he  was !  lie  and  I  were  at  Chel- 
tenliam  together." 

"Yes;  I  think  to  see  him  lying  with  that  great 
knife  in  his  back  was  tlie  crudest  sight  I  ever 
saw,"  Carstairs  answered.  "  And  you  can't  think 
how  coming  back  into  this  old  room  has  brouglit 
it  all  into  my  mind,  as  freslilyas  if  it  had  happened 
but  yesterday."  And  then  there  was  a  movement 
towards  the  mess-room,  and  the  two,  Carstairs  and 
young  Mackenzie,  followed  the  rest  and  passed  in 


A  REGIMENTAL  GHOST.  109 

together,  and  the  subject  of  poor  Jack  Donovan 
and  his  quarters  was  dropped. 

Among  tlie  more  rojstering  spirits,  however,  the 
news  spread  like  wildHre,  and  considerable  excite- 
ment ensued. 

"Poor  Jack," said  one, "that  prig  Escott  would 
be  frightened  out  of  his  seven  senses  if  he  knew 
it." 

"Hush— sh!"  with  an  uneasy  glance  towards 
the  senior  sub.,  who  was  sitting  close  at  liand, 
and  would  probably  have  sat,  with  all  the  crush- 
ing weight  of  his  authority,  upon  such  remarks 
being  made  at  the  mess-table  itself. 

"  By  Jove  !  but  if  I  don't  get  myself  up  like  poor 
Jack's  ghost,  and  try.  the  effect  on  him  when  he 
comes  back,  my  name's  not  'Enery  'Olmes,"  mut- 
tered another. 

"You'll  frighten  him  into  a  lunatic  asylum  if 
you  do,"  said  another  youngster,  with  decision. 
"  Besides,  if  it  came  out  you'd  look  uncommonly 
awkward  playing  the  fool  with  the  major.  Much 
better  try  your  hand  on  young  Rags  over  there ; 
he  will  be  better  fun,  and  you  won't  have  so  long 
to  wait  to  see  the  effect  of  your  make-up." 

It  does  not  take  a  particularly  brilliant  idea  in 
the  form  of  a  practical  joke  to  spread  like  wildfire 


110  WITH  THE  TWENTY-FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

among  the  youngsters  of  a  regiment,  no  matter 
whether  they  be  youngsters  in  mess-room  or  can- 
teen. In  this  instance  wildfire  is  but  a  poor  way 
of  expressing  the  rapidity  with  which  the  new  sug- 
gestion sprang  into  existence  and  grew  into  matur- 
ity. It  was  wholly  new  —  it  was  not  impossible 
that  it  would  be  startling  in  its  results — to  a  cer- 
tain extent  it  was  dangerous,  and  moreover  it  bor- 
dered sufficiently  on  the  uncanny  to  have  a  flavor 
and  a  zest  which  of  late  their  practical  jokes  had 
not  possessed ;  and  in  addition  to  all  these  consid- 
erations, it  could  be  carried  out  at  once  without  any 
delay  whatever — in  fact,  it  could,  would,  and  should 
be  put  into  practice  that  very  night. 

In  next  to  no  time  they  had  it  all  arranged,  all 
cut  and  dried,  and  ready  for  carrying  out.  The 
three  whose  heads  kept  so  close  together  during 
the  long  festivity  of  dinner  were  Norreys,  Eden, 
and  Graham.  Each  was  anxious  to  have  the  hon- 
or of  personating  the  ghost;  but  Graham,  having 
originated  the  idea,  absolutely  declined  to  give  up 
his  riglits,  and  kept  to  his  determination  like  grim 
death;  therefore  it  was  tinally  agreed  that  he  should 
be  the  one  to  strike  terror  into  the  heart  of  the  lad 
whom  they  one  and  all  were  accustomed — chiefly 
because  he  had  passed  a  brilliant  examination  at 


A  REGIMENTAL  GHOST.  Ill 

Sandhurst,  and  had  entered  the  Army  witli  flying 
colors  as  a  student — to  regard  as  an  out-and-out 
duifer  —  nothing  short  of  a  regular  muff  —  more 
likely  than  not  to  be  driven  half  frantic  by  the  sight 
of  an  apparition,  which  he  would  reasonably  believe 
to  be  the  ghost  of  poor  murdered  Jack  Donovan. 

Having  settled  this  point  to  their  agreement,  if 
not  quite  to  their  satisfaction,  the  three  conspira- 
tors had  next  to  determine  upon  the  costume  suit- 
able for  the  occasion.  Norreys  suggested  ordinary 
mess-dress,  with  flesh-tints  carefully  rubbed  over 
with  phosphor — "It  will  look  perfectly  ghastly," 
he  declared. 

"Yes,  that's  so;  I  agree  to  the  phosphor,  only 
we  sha'n't  be  able  to  get  it  easily  to-night,"  returned 
Eden. 

"  Besides,  that  would  indicate  that  poor  Jack 
had  come  straight  out  of  the  infernal  regions," 
objected  Graham;  "and  really  we  can  have  our 
joke  without  insulting  the  poor  chap's  memory  in 
that  way.  No ;  I  propose  the  orthodox  sheet,  mod- 
ified— a  sort  of  laid-out  style ;  you  know  there  is 
something  much  more  really  ghastly  about  the 
laid-out  style  than  anything  else.  Tie  the  face  up 
with  a  white  cloth,  tie  another  round  the  head, 
chalk  the  face  well,  and  just  rub  a  handful  of 


112  WITH  THE  TWENTY- FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

matches  over  it,  so  as  to  outline  it  round  the  lips, 
under  the  eyebrows,  and  down  the  line  of  the  nose. 
Let  all  the  rest  appear  in  the  orthodox  white  sheet ; 
depend  npon  it,  there  is  nothing  so  thoroughly  aw- 
ful in  the  silent  watches  of  the  night  as  a  mysteri- 
ous and  ill-defined,  shapeless  something  in  a  white 
sheet — a  something  in  white.  A  mere  figure  in 
ordinary  mess-dress  would  be  nothing — it  wouldn't 
frighten  a  child ;  but  a  horrible,  shivering,  shud- 
dering, nameless,  featureless  thing — a  something — 
is  generally  enough  to  make  tlie  stoutest  heart 
quail  and  the  bravest  blood  curdle;  at  least,  I 
know  mine  would." 

"  Yes,  Graham  is  right ;  trust  your  uncanny, 
second-sight-endowed  Scot  for  being  well  up  in  all 
the  blues  and  horrors,"  laughed  Eden.  "  Well, 
then,  I  say  we  had  better  leave  the  toilet  of  the 
nameless,  shuddering,  featureless  something  entire- 
ly to  you.  Poor  old  Rags,  look  at  liim,  how  he's 
enjoying  himself  to-niglit.  lie  little  thinks  what 
a  treat  is  in  store  for  him,  and  how  his  poor  dear 
little  legs  will  shake  under  him  by-and-by.  Ah, 
well,  where  ignorance  is  bliss  —  you  know ;  he'll 
know  too,  soon  enough." 

"  Shall  you  speak,  Graliam  ?"  asked  Norreys,  af- 
ter a  glance,  and  a  grin  at  Mackenzie. 


A  REGIMENTAL  GHOST.  113 

"  I  shall  groan,"  answered  Graham,  promptly ; 
"  not  loud,  hut  with  a  pathetic  plaintiveness — gro- 
ro-ro-an  !  gro-ro-ro-an  !     See  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  do;  and  if  you  don't  mind  Um'acke  will 
hear,  too,  and  then  good  -  bye  to  your  chance  of 
ajroanino:  at  Eaojs  to-nio;ht." 

"  You  might  carry  a  bundle  of  joss  -  sticks  in 
your  hand,"  suggested  Eden,  "alight,  you  know. 
They  make  a  nice,  sweet,  overpowering,  sickly  sort 
of  smell  in  the  room,  and  would  give  an  air  of 
realistic  truthfulness  to  the  scene,  which  would 
quite  finish  young  Rags  off,  if  the  laid-out  style 
and  the  groans  don't  accomplish  his  destruction  by 
themselves." 

"  Have  you  got  any  ?"  Graham  inquired. 

"  Yes,  I've  a  bundle  of  them  in  mv  room." 

"  Oh,  then  I'll  use  them ;  and  I'll  tell  you  what, 
I'll  run  round  to  Austin's  quarters  and  borrow  that 
marble  hand  of  his,  the  thing  he  brought  from 
Eome  last  year,  and  calls  'an  antique.'  If  Rags 
is  bold  enough  to  come  to  close  quarters,  it  will 
have  a  nice  laid-out,  cold,  clammy  feeling  about 
it." 

"  Poor  devil,"  murmured  Eden,  half-pityingly. 

"  Oh,  there's  nothino;  like  doinsc  a  thine:  thor- 
oughly  while  you  are  about  it,"  laughed  Graham. 

8 


114  WITH  THE  TWENTY-FIFTH  DRAGOON& 

"  No,  tliat's  true,"  agreed  Worreys ;  "  but  won't 
Austin  want  to  know  wliat  you're  going  to  do  with 
it?     I  know  he  sets  great  store  by  the  thing." 

"I'll  borrow  it  on  my  own  responsibility,"  the 
other  laughed.  "  Depend  upon  it,  Austin  will  go 
to  by-by  quite  too  muddled  to  notice  whether  it  is 
there  or  not, and  I'll  put  it  back  when  we've  fright- 
ened Hags  out  of  his  senses.  Austin  always  does 
get  pretty  well  muddled  on  a  big  night,  you 
know." 

"  Yes,  his  head  won't  stand  liquor  at  all,"  an- 
swered Eden,  who  had  taken  many  and  many  an 
opportunity,  afforded  by  the  combination  of  a  big 
night  with  Austin's  weak  head,  to  plan  and  carry 
out  with  equal  zest  and  enjoyment  the  simple  sell 
and  the  elaborate  hoax  which  obtain  and  find  fa- 
vor in  the  inner  life  of  a  cavalry  regiment. 

Now,  it  was,  of  course,  an  unusually  big  night 
on  that  occasion,  and  it  was  very  late  before  Gra- 
ham and  the  other  two  conspirators  could,  unper- 
ceived,  slip  away  from  the  now  almost  uproarious 
company.  It  was  not,  indeed,  until  the  best  stories 
began  to  spin  around  the  mess  -  table,  and  whist 
was  in  full  swing  in  the  adjoining  room,  that  they 
made  the  smallest  attempt  to  do  so,  and  even  then 
they  went  off  one  by  one,  and  at  considerable  in- 


A  REGIMENTAL  GHOST.  115 

tervals.  Graham  was  tlie  first  to  go;  and  lie,  on 
his  way  to  his  own  quarters,  invaded  those  belong- 
ing to  Austin,  and  borrowed  the  loan  of  the  mar- 
ble hand,  or,  as  Austin  called  it,  "  his  antique." 
It  was  a  line,  long-fingered  piece  of  sculpture,  and 
so  chilly  to  the  touch  that  Graham  felt  quite  a 
perceptible  thrill  pass  up  his  arm  as  he  grasped  it ; 
yet,  full  of  a  desire  to  leave  notliing  undone  which 
could  in  any  way  tend  to  add  to  the  reality  of  his 
make-up,  he,  as  soon  as  he  reached  his  own  quar- 
ters, straightway  deposited  it  in  the  safe  and  cool 
shelter  of  the  huge  can  of  watci'  which  stood  in 
the  middle  of  his  bath,  in  readiness  for  his  morn- 
ing's tub. 

Then  he  proceeded  to  make  up  his  face  ;  and 
surely  no  beauty  going  to  a  ball,  even  a  beauty 
who  was  getting  a  shade  passee  and  desperately 
anxious  to  conceal  the  ravages  of  time  and  gfiyety, 
ever  took  more  infinite  trouble  and  pains  to  pro- 
duce a  desired  effect.  The  way  in  wliich  he  care- 
fully whitened  his  entire  countenance,  so  that  he 
looked  a  great  deal  whiter  than  most  dead  people 
look,  the  way  in  which  he  blacked  a  stout  pin, 
some  six  inches  long,  in  the  gas,  and  finding  that 
no  good,  flung  it  aside,  and  tried  the  same  means 
with  a  pipe-stem,  and  then,  with  the  greatest  care 


116         WITH  THE  TWENTY- FUTH  DRAGOONS. 

and  skill,  drew  a  thick  line  across  his  fair  eye- 
brows and  under  his  blue  eyes,  were  all  really 
works  of  the  highest  praise  had  they  been  done  in- 
a  better  cause.  Then  he  got  a  box  of  matches, 
and  with  careful  manipulation,  first  of  a  wet  fin- 
ger, and  then  of  half  a  dozen  matches  rubbed  well 
over  the  spot  damped  by  the  finger,  managed  to 
produce  a  fairly  strong  phosphorescent  light  of  a 
ghostly  bluish  color  over  his  eyes  and  round  his 
lips:  he  was  obliged  to  put  out  the  light  to  see  the 
effect  of  this,  which  so  entranced  him  that  he 
pi'omptly  executed  a  sort  of  war-dance — or,  by-the- 
bye,  it  might  have  been  a  Highland  fling — to  the 
reflection  of  his  own  uncanny  image  in  the  glass. 

"  I  shall  have  to  rub  on  another  supply  of  phos- 
phor," he  said  to  himself.  "  I'fl  do  that  the  last 
thing  of  all — and  now  for  the  laying-out  style." 

He  didn't  find  this  quite  so  easy ;  however,  by 
the  time  Eden  turned  up,  he  had  safely  secured  a 
white  towel  about  his  face  and  head  in  a  manner 
exceedingly  uncomfortable  to  Inmself,  and  adding 
wonderfully  to  the  general  ghastliness  of  his  ap- 
pearance. 

"  Good  Lord !  what  a  loathsome  object  you  do 
look,  Douglas,"  exclaimed  Eden.  "  1  don't  believe 
a  real  ghost  would  be  half  as  bad." 


A  REGIMENTAL  GHOST.  117 

"I  dare  say  not,"  Graham  tnnmbled,  indistinctly. 
"  I'll  tell  you  what,  this  laying-out  style  is  deuced 
uncomfortable." 

"  Not  half  so  uncomfortable  as  poor  Bags  will 
be  by-and-by,"  laughed  Eden,  grimly. 

Graham  had  just  completed  his  entire  toilet 
when  Korreys  came  on  the  scene. 

"  Good  conscience !"  that  young  gentleman  ejac- 
ulated, as  his  eyes  fell  upon  his  comrade,  "  but 
you'd  be  an  unpleasant  sort  of  chap  to  meet  in  a 
lonely  passage  on  a  dark  night.  I  think  we  must 
try  it  on  the  major  after  all." 

"We'll  see,"  mumbled  the  ghost;  "let's  get 
Rags  disposed  of  first.  Is  he  gone  to  roost  yet,  do 
you  know  ?" 

"  Yes ;  he  came  up  with  me  ;  said  he  was  tired 
out,  and  should  be  asleep  before  his  head  touched 
the  pillow,"  Norreys  answered. 

"Then  come  along,"  said  the  ghost,  eagerly. 

It  was  but  the  work  of  a  moment  to  slip  rapidly 
along  the  corridor  and  down  the  wide  stone  stairs, 
followed  at  a  little  distance  by  the  two  others.  In 
a  twinkling  the  single  gas-jet  burning  just  outside 
Major  Escott's  rooms  was  turned  out,  and  the  door 
of  his  sitting-room  was  softly  opened. 

The  ghost  advanced  into  the  darkness.     "Er- 


118         WITH  THE  TWENTY-FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

er-er-er-eogli !"  he  began,  in  a  low,  sobbing  moan, 
which  rose  gradually  higher  and  higher  as  the  wind 
sobs  among  the  soughing  branches  of  a  clump  of 
trees  and  gradually  rises  into  a  sharp  shriek  of 
pain,  or  what  sounds  as  such. 

There  was  a  dead  silence,  broken  only  by  the 
faint  and  regular  breathing  of  the  sleeping  lad. 
So  the  ghost  began  again — "  Arrrrrrrr-ah  !  Arrr- 
rrr-ah !  An-rrr-ah !  Arrr-eogh !"  and  there  ended 
with  such  a  sharp  convulsion  of  shuddering  that 
young  Mackenzie  woke  with  a  start. 

"  Ivurrrrrrrrrr-eogh  !"  shivered  the  ghost. 

"What  the  devil's  that?"  cried  Mackenzie, 
aloud. 

The  shuddering  and  the  shivering  and  the 
moaning  went  on,  and  young  Eags  sprang  out  of 
bed  ;  tlie  ghost  hearing  him  groping  about  for  the 
matches  Avent  a  step  nearer,  and  began  his  moans 
and  groans  anew.  Then,  quick  as  thought,  the 
lad,  still  overpowered  with  sleep,  being  unable  to 
find  the  matches,  seized  the  poker,  and  tried  to 
stir  the  dying  fire  into  a  blaze;  a  feeble  flicker 
was  the  result,  but  it  was  enough  to  show  him  tho 
ghastly  manner  of  visitant  which  had  come  to 
him. 

"  Just  clear  out  of  this,"  he  said,  authoritatively ; 


A  REGIMENTAL  GHOST.  119 

but  the  ghost  shuddered  and  groaned  worse  than 
ever. 

Young  Rags  made  a  dash  at  the  major's  pistol- 
case.  "  By  Jove,  I'll  stand  none  of  this  fooling," 
he  cried  ;  "  if  you  don't  clear  out  of  this  I'll  lire 
— u})on  my  soul  I  will." 

"  Kurrrrrrrrr-eogii !"  gobbled  the  ghost,  when 
there  was  a  sharp  click — a  flash — a  crj^ — no,  two 
cries — the  loudest  by  far  from  young  Rags,  as  the 
shost  fell  to  the  floor  with  a  dull  thud,  and  the 
boy,  who  had  never  dreamed  that  the  pistol  was 
loaded,  dropped  upon  his  knees  beside  him. 

And  then  some  of  the  others  hearing  the  pistol- 
shot  dashed  in,  and  Mackenzie  saw  —  "  Oh  !  God 
— oh!  God,"  he  cried,  and  turning  the  pistol  upon 
himself,  fired  again,  and  sent  the  bullet  home — 
yes,  right  home  to  his  very  heart ! 


BROKE. 

Several  years  before  the  Black  Horse  got 
their  route  for  Wharnecliffe,  a  young  fellow  walk- 
ed into  barracks  one  fine  morning,  and  asked  for 
the  shilling. 

It  was  not  an  unusual  proceeding,  yet  some- 
thing unusual  in  his  appeai-ance  made  the  adju- 
tant ask  him  a  string  of  rather  unusual  questions 
— unusual,  that  is,  at  such  an  interview. 

"You  want  to  enlist?"  he  said,  giving  him  a 
sharp  soldier's  look  up  and  down. 

"  If  you  please,  sir,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Er — have  you  been  in  any  trade  ?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Know  anything  about  horses?" 

"  I've  been  among  them  all  my  life,"  was  the 
simple  reply. 

"Can  you  ride?" 

Tlie  stranger  laughed.     "Yes, sir;  I  can  ride." 

"Ah!  Can  you  —  that  is,  do  you  know  any- 
thing of  Latin  ?" 

"Yes,"  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  as  if  to 


BROKE.  121 

indicate  that  bis  knowledge  was  not  great  in  that 
h'ne. 

''  Greek  ?" 

"  Ye— es,"  more  doubtfully  still. 

"Modern  languages?"  persisted  the  adjutant. 

"  Ye— es,"  most  doubtfully  of  all. 

"Ah!  what  modern  languages?" 

"French,"  rather  disparagingly,  "and  er— some 
Gernuiu,"  was  the  reply. 

"Oh,  French,  and  some  German;  that  means 
you  speak  Fi-ench  best.  In  fact,  you're  a  gentle- 
man." 

"  I  shall  not  make  the  worse  soldier  for  that, 


sir." 


"  I  don't  know— I  don't  know.     They  generally 
do.     What's  your  name  ?" 
"  Geoi-ge  Jones." 

"  George  Jones.  Oh !  that's  not  your  real  name, 
of  course  " 

"  It  is  the  name  I  wish  to  be  known  by,  sii-," 
with  a  certain  air  of  dignity,  which  made  the 
adjutant  think  better  of  him  all  in  a  moment. 

"  I  see  —  I  see.  AVell,  now  will  you  take  my 
advice?" 

"I  don't  know  till  I  hear  what  it  is," guardedly. 
The  adjutant  laughed.     "It  is  good,  and   it  ig 


123         WITH  THE  TWENTY-FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

disinterested,  for  men  of  your  age  and  build  are 
just  what  we  want." 

"  And  it  is —  "  asked  the  stranger. 

"  To  go  home  and  make  it  up  with  your  people. 
No — stay,"  as  he  was  about  to  speak.  "  I  know 
what  the  life  is ;  you  don't.  My  father  is  Lord 
Dayrell,  but  I  rose  from  the  ranks,  and  I  know 
what  it  is.  It's  all  very  well  for  the  general  run 
of  recruits ;  it  saves  them  from  worse  things ;  but 
to  one  of  us  it's  a  life  of — well,  never  mind,  only  I 
never  enlist  a  gentleman  if  I  can  possibly  help  it. 
You  had  better  go  home  and  make  it  up  again." 

The  lad — for  he  was  but  little  more — shut  his 
mouth  like  a  steel-trap,  and  turned  a  face  full  of 
resolution  and  dogged  determination  upon  the  of- 
ficer. "I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you,  sir,  but  if 
you  won't  enlist  me  I  can  try  another  regiment." 

"Oh!  very  well  —  very  well;  I'll  take  you," 
shrugging  his  shoulders  with  an  air  of  regret  that 
his  advice  had  not  been  better  received.  "But 
you  don't  mean  to  wear  those  rings,  do  you  ?" 

The  lad  who  wished  to  be  known  as  George 
Jones  looked  down  upon  his  rings  and  blushed — 
positively  blushed. 

"  I'll  take  them  off ;  I  forgot  them  " — apologeti- 
cally, and  slipping  them  off  his  hand. 


BROKE.  123 

"Have  you  no  one  you  can  send  them  to?" 
questioned  the  officer,  kindly.  "  You  will  certain- 
ly lose  them  if  you  keep  them  in  your  kit ;  besides, 
it's  not  right  to  leave  them  about— they're  a  tempt- 
ation." 

The  lad  hesitated.  "  I— if  you  wouldn't  mind 
— or" — he  stammered. 

"  Oh  yes ;  I'll  seal  them  up  and  keep  them  for 
you  if  you  like,"  returned  the  officer.  So  the 
young  man  handed  over  the  rings,  a  few  foi-mal 
questions  were  put,  and  then  the  adjutant  raised 
liis  hand  to  touch  the  little  bell  which  would  sum- 
mon the  sergeant  from  the  outer  office.  Some- 
thing, however,  made  him  stay  the  gesture  and  ask 
yet  another  question. 

"  You  were  at  Eton  ?"  he  said. 

The  other  looked  at  him  hard  for  a  mo- 
ment. 

"  No ;  Chartei-house,"  he  answered ;  "  and  I  don't 
wish—" 

"  Very  well ;  I  will  respect  your  wish.  And  now 
you  can  go.     I  hope  you'll  do  well." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  answered  George  Jones,  and 
followed  the  sergeant  out  of  the  room. 

So,  in  due  course  of  time,  he  became  a  trooper  in 
the  Twenty-fifth  Regiment  of  Dragoons,  was  meas- 


124         WITH  THE  TWENTY-FIFTH   DRAGOONS. 

iired  for  his  uniform,  put  into  the  awkward  squad, 
taught  the  mysteries  of  goose-step,  and  initiated 
into  the  horrors  of  that  Inferno  which  is  called  the 
riding-school,  and  before  very  long  had  won  the 
good  opinion  of  almost  the  entire  regiment,  and 
had  grown  into  one  of  the  smartest  dragoons  in 
the  whole  of  the  ranks. 

And  the  two  rings  which  he  had  worn  during 
that  iirst  interview  with  the  adjutant  remained 
still  in  the  keeping  of  that  officer,  who  before  seal- 
ing them  up  and  inscribing  the  packet  with  the 
name  and  regimental  number  of  George  Jones, 
had  examined  them  in  no  small  surprise  and  as- 
tonishment. One  was  a  broad  band  of  gold  set 
with  a  single  diamond  of  great  purity  and  value, 
and  inscribed  within  the  ring  with  the  single  word 
"Edith;"  the  other  was  an  exceedingly  massive 
signet,  set  with  a  great  lustrous  amethyst,  in  which 
were  cut  the  arms  and  motto  of  a  certain  noble 
house  ranking  almost  with  royalty  in  its  princely 
state  and  grandeur. 

"  Good  God !  wliat  a  young  fool !  Some  quar- 
rel about  a  woman,  I'll  be  bound,"  muttered  Day- 
rell  to  himself.  And  then  he  sealed  the  two  rings 
up  in  a  sheet  of  paper,  and  put  them  for  safety  in 
the  inmost  recesses  of  his  despatch-box, after  which 


BROKE.  125 

for  anything  which  passed  his  lips,  he  apparently 
fortrot  all  about  the  matter. 

Whether  it  had  been  a  quarrel  about  a  woman 
which  had  been  the  means  of  inducing  George 
Jones  to  enter  the  ranks  of  the  Black  Horse  or 
not,  that  young  gentleman  neither  deserted  nor 
was  bought  off  by  his  relatives.  On  the  contrary, 
day  after  day  slipped  by  and  grew  into  weeks, 
weeks  grew  into  months,  months  into  years,  and 
still  lie  remained  under  his  nam  de  guerre^  grow- 
ing from  recruit  into  trooper,  from  trooper  to  cor- 
poral, and  from  corporal  to  sergeant,  from  which 
honorable  position  it  was  expected  in  the  regiment 
he  would  soon  be  removed  by  the  gift  of  a  com- 
mission. 

So  far  so  good,  and  such  was  the  history — the 
regimental  history,  that  is  —  of  Sergeant  George 
Jones,  who  had  quite  proved  himself  an  exception 
to  the  general  belief  among  officers  that  the  gen- 
tleman recruit  is  not  likely  to  be  of  much  good,  or 
to  turn  out  an  acquisition  of  very  high  value.  He 
had  not  found  life  in  the  ranks  of  the  British  army 
a  bed  of  roses — quite  the  contrary.  He  had  felt 
the  pinch  of  the  shoe  many  and  many  a  time,  till 
the  pain  of  it  was  almost  beyond  endurance.  He 
had  sickened  and  turned  aside  in  disgust  and  loath- 


126  WITH  THE  TWENTY-FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

ing  from  the  food — supposed  to  be  of  the  best,  but 
presented  by  swindling  contractors  and  well-tipped 
quartermasters  and  their  favorite  tools  among  the 
non-coms,  under  the  noses  of  honorable  subalterns 
■who  didn't  know  a  leg  of  mutton  from  a  shin  of 
beef — how  should  they  ? 

And  there  were  other  things  which  made  the 
life  exceedingly  hard  for  a  gentleman  to  bear,  and 
nmch  more  so  for  this  scion  of  nobility,  whose  boy- 
hood had  been  passed  amid  princely  splendor :  the 
regular  hours  of  work,  the  fetching  and  the  carry- 
ing, the  air  of  do  this  or  do  that,  of  come  here  or 
go  there,  with  which  the  sergeants  one  and  all  were 
accustomed — as  men  who  arc  not  very  well  bred 
do  if  they  happen  to  be  clothed  with  a  little  brief 
authority — to  address  the  unfortunate  beings  who 
are  below  them  in  rank.  And  there  was  one  great 
want  in  his  life,  one  great  space  which  he  had 
never  a  chance  of  filling — the  want  of  companion- 
ship, the  companionship  of  those  of  his  own  order. 
True,  he  did  not  want,  or  rather  need  not  have 
wanted,  for  sympathy  and  for  friendship  had  he 
cared  to  take  such  as  lay  to  his  hand.  lie  was 
smart  and  straight  and  true;  from  first  to  last 
it  was  well  known  that  his  word  was  his  bond, 
and  that  if  a  chap  wanted  a  good  turn  done  for 


BROKE.  127 

him,  George  Jones,  whether  witli  the   prefix   of 
private,  corpoi-al,  oi-  sei-geaut,  was   the   man   he 
would  be  most  likely  to  get  to  do  it.     There  was 
many  and  many  a  fine  young  fellow  in  the  Black 
Horse  who  would  have  laid  down  his  very  life  for 
the  man  who  had  won  the  admiration  of  them  all ; 
who  never  gave  himself  any  airs;  who  never  treat- 
ed the  lowest-born  among  them  with  less  civility 
and  respect,  so  long  as  he  kept  a  clean  slate ;  who, 
as  one  poor  passionate  lad  said— a  lad  who  had 
come  into  the  service  off  tramp,  and  had  grown 
accustomed  to  can-y  all  his  lessons  and  numberless 
other  difficulties  to   him-"  Sergeant  Jones  is  a 
fowling  swell,  might  be  a  dook,  but  bless  my  eyes 
if  you'll  ever  'ear  from  'ira  any  of  the  swagger 
that  you  gets  from  that  stuck-up  flunky  of  a  petti- 
fogging cobbler's  son  that  'as  wormed  'isself  into 
favoi-,and  calls  'isself  a  quartermaster;  no,  blest  if 
you  do,  no  more  nor  if  Sergeant  Jones  had  been 
boi-n  under  a  hay-rick." 

But  when  somebody  repeated  the  same  to  Ser- 
geant Jones,  thinking  he  might  get  a  little  infor- 
•mation  out  of  him  as  to  his  belongings,  he  only 
laughed,  and  asked  what  on  earth  it  could  matter 
whether  a  man  was  born  under  a  hay-rick  or  in  a 
palace  ? 


128  WITH   THE  TWENTY- FIFTH   DRAGOONS. 

"  I  should  say  the  palace  was  nearest  the  mark 

with  you,  sergeant,"  ventured  the  other. 

"Nonsense!"  said  the  sergeant,  laughing  again. 

"I  was  born  at  a  little  eight-roomed  cottage   in 

Scotland,"  and  walked  away. 

"  What  they  calls  a  shooting-box,"  said  the  other 

to  himself— which,  as  a  matter-of-fact,  was  a  guess 

not  wide  of  the  mark  by  any  means. 

Upon  the  whole,  therefore,  it  may  be  understood 

that,  in  spite  of  much  that  was  intensely  trying  to 

himself,  he  got  on  well  in  and  with  the  Black 
Horse,  until  at  last,  after  nearly  four  years'  service, 
he  fell  upon  an  evil  day  — a  very  evil  day  — on 
which  he  was  posted  for  the  duty  of  weighing  and 
helping  to  pass  the  rations. 

It  certainly  was  not  his  fault,  for  the  work  was 
the  most  absolutely  distasteful  to  him  that  he  had 
ever  been  put  to  do  since  the  day  he  joined  the 
regiment.  Still  more  certain  is  it  that  his  being 
set  to  do  it  was  not  the  work  of  the  gentleman 
whom  the  ex-tramp  had  designated  as  "  that  stuck- 
up  flunky  of  a  pettifogging  cobbler's  son  that  'as 
wormed  'isself  into  favor,  and  calls  'isself  a  quar- 
termaster ;"  for  he  would  as  soon  have  posted  the 
archangel  Michael  for  the  duty  as  Sergeant  Jones, 
whom  he  knew  to  be  a  gentleman,  and  guessed 


BROKE.  139 

was  an  aristocrat,  and  was,  as  he  was  well  aware 
by  experience,  what  he  called  "so  beastlj  honest." 
If  the  truth  be  told,  and,  as  an  accurate  and  truth- 
ful chronicler  of  the  ways  and  doings  of  this  par- 
ticular regiment,  I  must  tell  the  truth,  it  was  the 
doing  of  our  adjutant,  the  Honorable  George  Day- 
rell,  who  had  long  suspected  that  a  good  deal  of 
dirty  and  underhand  work  was  going  on  in  the 
i-egiraent,  and  had  made  up  his  mind  to  put  a  stop 
to  it  if  it  lay  within  human  power  to  do  it ;  and 
as  he  was  pleased  to  give  the  order  that  George 
Jones  should  take  his  share  of  a  certain  duty,  why 
neither  Quartermaster  Charles  Mui-ray  nor  Ser- 
geant George  Jones  had  anything  to  do  beyond 
simply  to   obey,  although   Murray   hummed   and 
hawed  and  d— d  a  good  deal,  and  Jones  turned 
fairly  sick  within  himself. 

And  so  on  the  following  morning  he  quietly 
took  his  turn,  and  an  interest  in  the  general  pro- 
ceedings such  as  made  the  quartermaster's  fingers 
fairly  itch  to  double  themselves  into  fists  and  let 
fly  at  him  straight  in  the  eyes;  and  then,  M'hen 
about  half-way  throiigli  the  business,  he  suddenly 
created  a  sensation  by  proclaiming,  "  This  meat 
sti7iks  P 

Innnediately  a  profound  silence  was  the  result, 

9 


130  WITU  THE  TWENTY- FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

in  the  midst  of  which  the  contractor  came  to  his 
side,  and,  nnder  pretence  of  examining  the  joint, 
said,  in  a  hurried  whisper,  "  Hush — sh  !  I'll  give 
you  twenty  pounds  to  hold  your  tongue,"  In  an- 
swer to  which  Sergeant  Jones  promptly  knocked 
him  down,  without  condescending  to  reply  further. 

A  babel  of  voices  broke  out  instantly  as  the 
contractor  lay  spluttering  on  the  ground.  Ser- 
geant Jones  stood  like  a  god  of  vengeance  over 
the  great  ugly  joint  of  raw  meat;  and  then  the 
quartermaster  swaggered  up  and  pretended  to  ex- 
amine it  as  the  contractor  had  done  before  him. 

"  The  meat  is  sweet  enough,"  he  declared.  "Ar- 
rest this  man  immediately." 

Unfortunately  down  at  the  bottom  of  all  his 
imperturbable  coolness  and  sang-froid  Sergeant 
Jones  possessed  a  temper — a  temper  which  when 
fairly  roused  might  very  reasonably  have  belong- 
ed to  old  Nick  himself;  more  unfortunately  still, 
it  was  roused  then, 

"  The  meat  stinks,"  he  reiterated,  doggedly. 

"Take  the  meat  away!"  roared  the  quarter- 
master. 

"  Touch  it  if  you  dare  !"  thundered  the  sergeant. 
"  I  hold  it  in  the  Queen's  name." 

"  I  say  the  meat  is  sweet  enough,"  screamed  the 


BROKE.  131 

quartermaster,  who  was  in  a  mortal  fright  lest  ad- 
jutant or  orderly  officer  slioiild  chance  to  look  in. 

"  And  I  say  it  stinks— touch  it  at  your  peril !" 
thundei-ed  the  sergeant,  altogether  forgetting  the 
difference  of  their  rank. 

Thus  dared,  the  quartermaster  clawed  at  the 
joint,  upon  which  the  sei-geant  laid  a  resolute  hand, 
with  a  grip  like  iron  and  the  strength  of  a  lion. 

"  Arrest  this  man  instantly,"  cried  the  quarter- 
mastei-,  turning  to  the  men  at  hand. 

But  nobody  moved,  and  the  other  stood  con- 
fronting him,  with  a  contemptuous  smile  upon  his 
handsome  face. 

"By  all  means,"  he  said,  coolly— so  coolly  that 
not  a  soul  suspected  the  tempest  of  fury  which  in 
truth  possessed  him.  "You,  men,  arrest  me  at 
once,  cmd  the  meat  with  meP 

"Put  the  meat  down!"  yelled  the  quarter- 
master. 

"  I  shall  not  do  that  till  I  put  it  before  the  ad- 
jutant," returned  the  sergeant,  quietly. 

"  Address  me  in  a  proper  maimer,  sir.  I  am 
one  of  your  officers.     Call  me  '  sir.' " 

"/call  you  'sir'!"  contemptuously;  he  then 
lost  his  temper  all  in  one  blaze  of  wrath,  and 
added, "  I'll  see  you  d-d  first." 


133         WITH  THE  T\YENTY-FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

And  then  the  fat  was  in  the  fire,  and  no  mis- 
take about  it.  All  the  same,  George  Jones  stuck 
manfully  to  his  joint  of  meat,  and  succeeded  in 
depositing  it  at  the  feet  of  colonel  and  adjutant, 
when  there  was  a  right  royal  row,  and  he  prompt- 
ly found  himself  under  arrest  for  using  bad  lan- 
guage to  a  superior  officer. 

"  And  why  tlie  devil  couldn't  you  have  reported 
it  to  me  quietly?"  asked  Dayrell,  irritably,  wlien, 
an  hour  or  two  later,  he  visited  the  eagle  in  his 
cage — he  was  just  like  an  eagle  in  a  cage. 

"  Look  here,  sir,"  was  the  reply ;  "  that's  been 
done  before.  Sergeant  Parkes  tried  that,  and  what 
was  the  result  ?  The  meat  "was  changed,  and  Ser- 
geant Pai'kes  was  broke  for  bringing  a  false  charge 
against  tliat  double -eyed  thief  Murray,  who  is — 
I'm  speaking  as  myself,  if  you'll  allow  me  —  the 
biggest  villain  unhung.  What  was  the  further  re- 
sult? The  disgrace  broke  Parkes's  heart  as  well 
as  his  stripes,  and  he  went  headlong  to  the  devil, 
never  did  anv  o^ood  after,  and  drowned  himself  at 
last  in  a  fit  of  delirium.  77iat  was  the  result  of 
speaking  quietly  about  it," 

"Well, you'll  be  broke  for  this  to  a  certainty," 
said  Dayrell, vexedly. 

The  other  shrugged  his  shoulders  carelessly,  but 


BROKE.  133 

all  the  same  a  very  dangerous  gleam  came  into 
his  blue  ejes.  "  If  I  am—"  he  began,  then  check- 
ed himself.  "Well,  sir"  — assuming  the  respect- 
ful official  tone—"  if  I  am,  I  am,  and  it  can't  be 
helped.  But  the  colonel  has  the  meat  anywaj-, 
and  it  stinks." 

"  Yes,  it  stinks,"  cigreed  Davrell,  as  if  that  was  a 
very  small  matter  for  consideration.  Then  he  said, 
suddenly,  "By -the -bye,  what  in  the  world  made 
you  enter  tlie  service?     Debt?" 

"  Oh  no ;  I  wanted  a  complete  change,  that  was 
all.  I  Avanted  to  lose  myself  for  a  bit,  and  try  to 
forget  all  I  liad  ever  known  before.  I  was  pretty 
miserable  when  I  joined,  but  I'm  about  tired  of 
the  service  now.  It's  a  thankless  sort  of  field- 
not  worth  keeping  straight  in.  I  think  I  shall 
clear  out  of  it  before  Ions." 

"Well,  it  will  be  a  pretty  thing  for  j^our  fam- 
ily if  you're  broke  for  this,''  commented  Davrell, 
vexedly. 

"  My  family !  Oh,  I  shall  not  be  the  first  of  the 
family  who  has  suffered  in  a  good  cause,"  returned 
the  sergeant,  carelessly ;  and  so  the  adjutant  left 
him  to  bear  his  captivity  as  best  he  might. 

He  did  not  like  it  at  all ;  the  enfoi-ced  idleness 
was  irksome  to  him,  the  lack  of  liberty  fretted 


134         WITH  THE  TWENTY-FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

and  worried  him,  and  he  had  more  time  than  he 
wanted  to  sit  and  think  about  the  woman  who 
had  brought  all  this  trouble  upon  him — the  Edith 
whose  ring  of  betrothal  to  him  was  still  safe  in 
tlie  adjutant's  keeping;  the  Edith  who  had  jilted 
him  for  his  elder  brother,  and  for  wliose  sake  he 
liad  buried  himself  in  what  was  simply  a  living 
grave,  when  ^le  might  much  more  sensibly  and 
reasonably  have  gone  to  Africa  and  shot  lions, 
whose  skins  he  might  have  sent  home  to  let  her 
know  how  utterly  he  had  ceased  to  regret  her. 

However,  the  past  was  past,  and  could  not  be 
undone  now.  Edith  was  his  brother's  wife,  and 
he — thank  Heaven  for  it ! — was  lieart-whole  again. 
Still,  though  he  had  made  liglit  of  the  matter  to 
his  adjutant,  his  s])irit  was  not  a  little  dismayed  at 
the  prospect  of  what  the  immediate  future  proba- 
bly held  in  store  for  him — the  prospect  of  being 
broke  for  what  was  in  reality  simply  doing  thor- 
ouglily  the  duty  he  had  been  told  off  to  do.  Or 
stay —  ISTo,  it  was  not  for  that  at  all ;  and  his  just 
soul  told  him  more  plainly  than  any  sentence  of 
court-  martial  would  liave  power  to  do  that  two 
wrongs  do  not  make  one  right,  and  that  he  had 
been  as  wrong — though  neither  dishonest  nor  mean 
— to  swear  at  the  quartermaster  as  the  quarter- 


Broke.  135 

master  had  been  to  cheat  her  Majesty's  soldiers 
out  of  their  proper  and  healthy  rations.  And  in 
time  the  court-martial  came  off.  Sergeant  Jones 
had  heard  previous  to  this  that  an  inquiry  was 
pending  concerning  the  quality  of  the  meat  sup- 
plied to  the  troops,  but  when  his  time  came  he 
found  that  this  fact  did  not  save  him  in  the  least. 
He  had  sworn  at  a  superior  officer  in  the  presence 
of  many  witnesses,  and  the  sentence  of  the  court- 
martial  was  that  he  be  therefore  reduced  to  the 
ranks,  or,  in  common  military  parlance,  "  broke," 
for  it. 

The  Black  Horse  were  all  as  sorry  as  men  could 
be  for  it,  with  the  exception  of  the  dishonest  stew- 
ard, who  vainly  imagined  from  this  result  to  the 
trial  that  his  own  affair  would  be  hushed  up  and 
made  light  of.  It  was  with  a  fiendish  joy  that  he 
saw  the  handsome  sergeant  brought  out  to  be  dis- 
graced in  the  eyes  of  the  whole  regiment  to  which 
he  had  been  so  great  an  ornament  and  credit. 

It  was  over  in  next  to  no  time.  There  was  just 
a  general  parade,  the  reading  of  the  sentence, 
a  rip  or  two  with  a  penknife,  and  then  George 
Jones  was  marched  off,  a  sergeant  no  longer,  but 
only  a  private,  number  862. 

He  bore  it  well.     The  entire  sympathy  of  the 


136.         WITH  THE  TWEN^TY- FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

reofiment  went  with  him.  To  a  man  the  Black 
Horse  could  and  would,  with  a  little  encourage- 
ment from  the  victim,  have  risen  and  stamped 
Quartermaster  Charles  Murray  into  a  shapeless 
jelly.  But  not  one  word  of  encouragement  did 
they  get. 

"  Wait  a  while,"  said  he.  "  I  deserved  to  be 
broke,  for  I  knew  better  than  to  swear  at  an  of- 
ficer; at  least  I  ought  to  have  known  better.  I 
ought  to  have  known  better,  too,  than  to  let  my 
devil  of  a  temper  get  the  upperhand  of  me  as  I 
did.     But  wait  a  while." 

So  the  men  did  wait,  and  before  very  long  the 
news  spread  like  wildfire  throughout  the  ranks 
that  George  Jones  had  bought  himself  off,  and 
that  his  place  would  know  him  no  more. 

"And  he  never  done  nothing  to  pay  that  Mur- 
ray out !"  cried  one. 

"  "Well,  /  don't  believe  in  a-setting  down  and 
bearing  every  kick  that's  given  you,"  said  another. 

"  Jes  you  wait,"  cried  the  ex-tramp,  whose  faith 
in  his  patron  had  never  wavered,  "  and  you'll  see." 

Thus  confidently  bidden,  they  did  wait,  and  they 
did  see— what  gladdened  the  heart  of  every  true 
man  among  them.  For  one  morning  about  a 
week  after  George  Jones  had  said  good-bye  to  his 


r 


BROKE.  137 

old  comrades,  there  turned  in  at  the  barrack  gates 
a  smart  high  cart  and  a  pair  of  bay  cobs  driven 
tandem.  lie  was  driving— a  groom  sat  behind. 
He  looked  neither  right  nor  left,  but  drove  straight 
down  to  the  officers'  quarters,  and  sent  in  a  card 
for  the  quartermaster,  Mr.  Miin-ay.  The  card  was 
inscribed  "Lord  Ronald  Sartoris." 

Mr.  Murray  was  in  his  own  quarters,  and  came 
bustling  out  in  liaste  when  he  heard  that  no  less 
a  person  than  Lord  Ronald  Sartoris  was  inquiring 
for  him;  and  then  when  he  found  that  Lord 
Ronald  Sartoris  and  Sergeant  Jones  were  one  and 
the  same  man,  and  that  he  carried  a  lono-,  h'the 
stinging,  cutting  tandem  whip,  he—  Well,  as  the 
troopei-s  said  among  themselves  when  talking  it 
over  later  in  the  day,  "  By ,  but  it  was  fine." 

And  after  that  Mr.  Murray  sent  in  his  papers, 
but  the  exact  meaning  of  it  the  i-anks  never  knew. 
But,  as  they  said,  "  It  was  fine." 


JEWEL  OR  PASTE. 

Shortly  after  the  terrible  tragedy  took  place 
in  Wharnecliffe  Barracks,  whicli,  as  I  recounted  in 
"  A  Regimental  Ghost,"  resulted  in  the  deaths  of 
two  of  tlie  most  popular  subalterns  of  the  Black 
Horse  —  Mackenzie  and  Graham  —  an  official  an- 
nouncement appeared  in  the  Gazette  to  the  effect 
that  Lester  Brookes  and  DArcy  de  Bolingbroke 
had  been  appointed  to  fill  the  two  vacant  places. 
In  official  language  it  ran  thus:  Lester  Brookes, 
gentleman,  to  be  lieutenant,  vice  Christopher  Mac- 
kenzie, deceased ;  DArcy  de  Bolingbroke,  gentle- 
man, to  be  lieutenant,  vice  Douglas  Graham,  de- 
ceased." 

Naturally  enough,  the  officers  of  the  Black 
Horse  looked  forward  with  a  good  deal  of  inter- 
est to  the  advent  of  the  two  new  subalterns. 
Neither  was  known  to  any  one  of  them  person- 
ally, though  all  knew  that  Brookes  was  the  son 
of  an  enormously  rich  iron-master,  and  might  be 
expected  to  give  himself  airs  accordingly  —  airs 
which  would  probably  make  him  so  insufferable 


JEWEL  OR  PASTE.  I39 

to  his  brother-officers  that  measures  would  have 
to  be  taken  which  would  speedily  make  the  regi- 
ment too  hot  to  hold  him. 

D'Arcj  de  Bolingbroke,  excepting  for  the  in- 
formation that  one  of  the  fellows  had  picked  np 
somewhere  that  he  was  the  son  of  the  Dean  of 
Birmingham,  was  altogether  an  nnknown  quanti- 
ty.    About  him   they  hardly  formed  an   opinion 
at  all,  though  if  an  outsider  had  pointedly  asked 
for  one,  he  would  have  been  answered  much  af- 
ter this  fashion:    "Oh!  I  don't  know,  I'm   sure. 
What's  his  father  ?     Dean  of  Birmingham.     Oh  ! 
the  youngster   wnll   be  tlie  very  devil:    parsons' 
sons  always  are.     You  didn't  know  that  ?     Ah ! 
fact,  I  assure  you." 

However,  when  the  two  new  subalterns  joined 
the  regiment  and  became  known  to  their  brother- 
officers,  it  was  speedily  found  that  all  the  previous 
surmises  about  them  had  been  equally  incorrect. 
Brookes  proved  a  rattling  good  fellow,  handsome, 
and  a  good  all  -  round  man  besides,  and  as  little 
given  to  the  display  of  his  vast  wealth  as  if  he 
had  come  into  the  service  with  an  allowance  of 
but  two  or  three  hundred  a  year. 

As  for  D'Arcy  de  Bolingbroke,  he  turned  out 
to  be  a  perfectly  harmless  and  apparently  brain- 


140         WITH  THE  TWENTY- FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

less  maslier.  The  faces  of  such  of  the  officers  as 
first  saw  this  new  addition  to  their  strength  were, 
I  can  assure  jou,  quite  of  a  regulation  pattern  as 
to  expression.  For  behold,  instead  of  the  haruin- 
scarnm  scatnp,  which  seems  to  be  the  universal 
form  of  every  parson's  son  who  enters  the  service, 
no  matter  whether  he  be  the  son  of  a  great  dig- 
nitary of  the  Church,  who  has  put  him  into  an 
expensive  regiment  with  an  idea  that  he  will  one 
day  be  a  credit  to  him,  and  make  as  famous  a 
general  as  his  father  has  been  a  clei'gyman,  and 
with  never  a  fear  that  he  will  turn  out,  as  he  gen- 
erally does,  a  regular  bad  lot,  or  whether  he  be 
the  son  of  a  poverty-stricken  incumbent  of  a  fat 
living  of  three  hundred  a  year  (and  what  parson 
may  not  think  himself  fairly  lucky  even  if  he 
do  no  better  than  that?), who,  perplexed  and  both- 
ered to  know  what  to  make  of  his  lad,  is  honest- 
ly thankful  when  the  lad  settles  the  question  for 
himself  one  fine  morning  by  making  a  bolt  of  it, 
and  providing  for  himself  by  the  simple  process 
known  as  taking  the  shilling,  and  afterwards  gives 
more  trouble  to  those  set  over  him  than  all  the 
rest  of  the  troop  put  together.  Well,  behold,  in 
the  place  of  a  scamp  of  either  of  these  patterns, 
a  harmless  masher  of  the  most  pronounced  type, 


JEWEL  OR  PASTE.  141 

with  a  collar  five  inches  high,  a  fresh  flower  in 
his  coat,  coat  padded  and  wadded  out  of  all  rec- 
ognition as  a  thing  intended  and  designed  as  a 
covering  for  the  human  form  divine,  knees  per- 
haps not  very  strong  to  begin  with,  but  by  care- 
ful practice  bi'ought  to  the  pitch  of  perfection  in 
the  way  of  crookedness  and  weakness,  hat  curly- 
brimmed,  ebony  crutch -stick  heavily  mounted  in 
silver,  chains,  rings,  pins,  studs— in  short,  clad  in 
the  entire  masher  costume  of  the  period. 

"  Good  Lord !"  quoth  Marcus  Orford,  when  he 
set  eyes  upon  him  for  the  fii-st  time, "  what  a 
young  fool !     Is  he  going  about  like  that  ?" 

"  Not  if  you  do  your  duty  as  senior  subaltern," 
replied  Urquhart,  promptly. 

"  Then  he  won't,"  said  Orford,  with  decision. 
Nor  did  he.  The  Honorable  Marcus  Orford 
was  a  young  gentleman  of  strong  will  and  of  an 
energetic  mind,  and  he  went  to  work  on  the  task 
of  recasting  young  D'Arcy  de  Bolingbroke's  outer 
man  with  sucli  right  good  vigor  that  within  the 
space  of  a  week  he  was  another— I  had  almost 
said  mail,  but  as  that  word  would  imply  that  he 
might  have  been  mistaken  for  a  man  before,  I 
will  say,  instead,  quite  another  creature. 

"I  say  — you  know,"  Orford  began,  as  his  fii-st 


143  WITH  THE  TWENTY-FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

attack,  "Sinpliatn  is  coming  from  town  this  morn- 
ing"— he  didn't  think  it  necessary  to  add  the  in- 
formation that  he  had  telegraplied  for  Sinpham 
himself;  "you'd  better  order  some  clothes  of 
him." 

"  Clothes!"  repeated  young  De  Bolingbroke,  with 
a  fine  air  of  bewilderment. 

"  Yes,  clothes,"  said  Orf ord,  sharply — "  coats  and 
trousers  and  such  like." 

"  But  I've  got  plenty  of  clothes — as  many  as  I 
want,"  ventured  the  new  subaltern,  wondering  if 
he  was  quite  going  back  to  the  days  of  his  boy- 
hood again. 

"  You  may  have  plenty  of  things  yoi(,  call 
clothes,"  answered  Orford,  coolly,  "  but  you  can't 
wear  them  here — not  while  you  belong  to  a  re- 
spectable regiment  like  the  Black  Horse." 

As  young  De  Bolingbroke  very  soon  found,  it 
was  useless  to  argue  the  point,  and  within  a  week 
he  became  a  new  creature,  wore  ordinary  coats 
and  hats,  ordinary  trousers — ay,  and  turned  them 
up  on  wet  days  like  anj^  ordinary  fellow;  had  or- 
dinary boots  with  ordinary  heels,  used  an  ash  stick 
in  place  of  the  silver-mounted  ebony  crutch,  and 
had,  as  a  matter-of-fact,  nothing  but  his  late  col- 
lars and  his  button-holes  to  remind  him  that  he 


JEWEL  OR  PASTE.  I43 

had  once  been  one  of  the  most  perfect  specimens 
of  the  gay  crowd  of  mashers  who  seem  to  live  for 
nothing  but  to  ci-awl  up  and  down  Piccadilly.  To 
those  emblems  of  departed  glory  he  clung  with 
the  tenacity  of  grim  death,  or  the  pitiable  eager- 
ness with  which  a  once  handsome  woman  clings 
to  the  last  remnant  of  her  fast-fading  beauty. 

Nor  did  it  take  very  long  to  straigliten  him  np  as 
to  the  knees,  and  to  mend  his  gait  from  one  simu- 
lating that  of  a  semi-imbecile  drunken  groom  to 
one  approaching  somewhat  to  the  free,  clean  walk 
of  a  trained  soldier.     In  fact,  between  drill,  riding- 
school,  and  chaff,  with   the  additional  aid  of  a'Ji 
overwhelming  awe  for  Marcus  Orford,  D'Arcy  de 
Bolingbroke,  before  he  had  been  very  long  in  the 
service,  became  a  \ery  decent  specimen  of  a  cav- 
alry officer,  without  having,  it  is  true,  very  much 
in   him,  or  very  much    to   say   for   himself.      It 
was  some  little  time  before  he  became  anything 
like  popular  with  his    brother -officers  — not,  in- 
deed, until    Sir  Anthony   Staunton   discovered  a 
vein  of  honor  in  his  composition,  such  as  made 
his  heart  warm  to  him  and  to  give  him  friend- 
ship. 

It  came  about  thus :  Sir  Anthony  happened  one 
day  to  need  the  loan  of  a  match,  or  fusee.     After 


144         WITH  THE  TWENTY-FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

strolling  into  several  men's  rooms  which  were  near 
his  own,  and  finding  neither  owner  nor  lights  in 
any  of  them,  he  knocked  at  the  door  of  De  Boling- 
broke's  quarters,  and  then  pushed  it  open.  "  Oh, 
you're  here,"  he  remarked.  "  I've  been  into  ever 
so  many  fellows'  rooms  for  a  light,  and  can't  get 
one.     Can  you  give  me  one  ?" 

"Yes;   there    are   plenty    of    matches    on    the 
chimney-shelf,"  answered  De  Bolingbroke.    "  Help 

yourself." 

Sir  Authouy  walked  over  to  the  fireplace  and 
did  help  himself,  lighting  his  pipe  and  taking  a 
few  of  the  wax  vestas,  which  he  found  in  the 
place  the  other  had  indicated,  with  which  to  re- 
plenish his  small -change  pocket.  "Thanks,  aw- 
fully," he  said,  civilly.  "It's  a  queer  thing  light 
should  be  so  difiicult  to  find  as  it  is  in  barracks. 
Perhaps  it^s  because  your  father's  a  dean  that  you 
are  able  to  supply  the  want.  As  a  general  rule, 
though,  I  find  it  quite  true  that  the  shoemaker's 
missis  does  go  the  worst  shod—" 

"  Yes,"  said  De  Bolingbroke,  absently. 
"I  had  an  old  nurse  once,"  Sir  Anthony  went 
on,  not  noticing  his  tone, "  when  I  was  a  young- 
ster, you  know,  and  going  about  with  a  box  of 
bricks  and  a  hoop ;  and  after  I  went  to  school  she 


JEWEL  OR  PASTE.  J4g 

went  and  got  married  to  the  village  constable,  who 
was  a  Latter-day  Saint.  Did  you  ever  know  any 
or  tiiat  sort,  now  ?" 

"No;  can't  say  I  ever  did,"  De  Bolingbroke 
answered.     "  What  are  they  ?" 

"Don't  know,  I'm  sure.  All  I  know  about 
them  IS  that  this  old  chap,  who  had  been  born 
with  a  pretty  considerable  respect  for  the  family 
more  than  any  one  outside  the  village  had,  for 
by  Jove !  the  Stauntons  are  all  as  poverty-stricken 
as  rats  in  an  empty  summer-house),  used  to  say 
we  were  very  good  and  very  gifted  people,  only 

we   wanted  'light;'  we   stood   sadly   in    need   of 
I#it.      B^,   Jove!   he   should    come   here;   he'd 

hnd  lack  of  light  enough  to  start  as  a  missionarv  " 
And  the  Stauntons  are  poor  ?"  observed   De 

Bohngbroke,  with  more  interest  than  he  had  a^ 

yet  shown.     "  Ah  !" 

He  uttered  a  sigh  so  heart-rending  that  Sir  An- 
thony turned  and  looked  at  him  shai-ply      "  AVhy 
what's  the  matter  ?"  he  asked. 

"I  didn't  know  you  were  in  the  same  boat  with 
me,  he  said,  dolefully.  "It's  nothing  much,  only 
a  writ  for  a  tailor's  bill;  nothing  much,  only  I 
never  had  one  before;  and  though  they  may  be 
the  regulation  thing  to  have  in  the  service-and 

10 


146  WITH  THE  TWENTY-FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

I  see  some  of  the  fellows  get  them  bj  the  half- 
dozen  at  once — well,  I  don't  like  it." 

"Neither  do  I,"  said  Staunton — "neither  do  I. 
Only  if  you  happen  to  be  a  poor  devil  without 
any  income  worth  speaking  of,  how  are  you  al- 
ways to  help  it?  xVnd  you  didn't  know  I  was 
poor?  Yes;  I  should  rather  think  I  am  poor. 
But,  bless  you,  when  you've  been  in  the  service  as 
long  as  I  have  you'll  not  mind  it — you'll  never 
think  about  it.  Bless  you,  it's  nothing  when 
you're  used  to  it.  I  live  on  the  edge  of  a  razor, 
but  it  !iever  is  the  snuillest  trouble  to  me." 

"  AH  the  same,  it's  tlie  very  devil  getting  writs, 
and  I  don't  like  it,"  declared  tlie  lad,  uneasily. 
"Besides,  I  promised  my  father  I  wouldn't  get  into 
debt,  lie  allows  me  three  hundred  a  year,  and  I 
believe  if  he  saw  that  thing" — with  a  disgusting 
gesture  in  the  direction  of  a  pinkish  paper  lying 
half  unfolded  on  the  floor — "  he'd  go  off  his  mind 
altogether  sti-aightway  —  ramping,  stark  n)ad.  I 
believe  he  would." 

"Shouldn't  have  put  you  into  the  Black  Horse 
on  three  hundred  a  year,  then,"  answered  Staun- 
ton, coolly ;  "  because  his  very  reverend  sense  ought 
to  tell  him  that  an  expensive  regiment  can't  be  done 
upon  it.     By-the-bye,  is  your  governor  well  off  ?" 


JEWEL   OR  PASTE.  I47 

"Oh,  beastly  rich !"  returned  De  Bolingbroke, 
with  empliasis. 

"Tlien  what's  the  good   of  worrying  yonrself 
about  it?     My  dear  lad,  he'll  make  an  awful  row, 
no  doubt,  a  blazing  row;  futhers  do,  you  know; 
they  like  it  — mine  alioays  did.     But  he  always 
paid  up  in  the  end,  and  so  will  yours,  of  course. 
If  he  don't  or  won't,  you'd  better  send  him  to  me, 
and  I'll  soon  settle  the  matter  for  you." 
"I  wish  you  would,"  dismally. 
"  Oh !  don't  be  down  in  the  mouth  over  it,"  the 
other  laughed ;  he  thought  as  little  about  the  dis- 
pleasure of  a  dean  as  he  thought  of  that  state  of 
poverty  which  he  was  accustomed  graphically  to 
describe  as  living  on  the  edge  of  a  razor.     "It's 
not  as  if  it  were  a  gambling  debt,  or  for  a  diamond 
bracelet;  then  you  might  feel  shy  about  it.     But 
a  few  poor  innocent  clothes!  oh,  my  dear  lad,  it 
isn't  worth  thinking  of  a  second  time ;  it  isn't  in- 
deed." ' 

"  I  don't,"  answered  the  lad,  simply.  "  But  what 
I  do  think  about  is  my  promise.  I  oughtn't  to 
have  broken  it,  and  in  fact  I  never  meant  to  break 
it,  only  Oi-ford  made  me  buy  all  those  new  clothes, 
you  kTiow,  which  I  didn't  want.  And  hang  it  all ! 
it's  very  well  to  say,  as  the  dean'll  say  when  I  teU 


148  WITH  THE  TWENTY-FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

him,  that  the  road  to  hell  is  paved  with  good  in- 
tentions ;  but  I  did  think  I  sliould  be  let  to  wear 
what  clothes  I  chose  when  I  joined.  I  dare  say  I 
did  look  a  precious  young  ass,  as  Orford  said ;  but 
d — n  me  !  I'd  rather  look  an  ass  than  break  a 
promise  any  day." 

For  once  in  his  life  Sir  Anthony  Staunton  let 
somebody  make  a  series  of  observations  without 
interruptions.  He  pulled  \evy  hard  at  the  pipe, 
and  frowned  portentously  ;  then  he  spoke. 

"  Hang  it  all!"  he  said,  "  but  I  thought  you  were 
a  howling  young  duffer,  and  nothing  more;  but 
you've  got  the  right  stuff  in  you,  and  look  here: 
I'm  rather  well  off  just  now,  so  let  me  be  your 
banker,  will  you  ?  And  then  you  can  pull  your 
allowance  straight  without  breaking  your  promise 
at  all !  Let  me :  I'll  be  proud  to  do  a  service  to  a 
fellow  who  feels  as  you  do." 

And  that  was  how  young  D'Arcy  de  Boling- 
broke  won  the  respect  and  the  friendship  of  one 
of  the  most  popular  men  in  the  regiment. 

There  were  some  among  the  officers  who  saw 
the  friendship  and  were  puzzled  by  it,  and  not 
knowing — and  they  never  did  know  from  Sir  An- 
thony— the  reason  of  it,  failed  to  understand  what 
he  could  possibly  find  to  appreciate  in  the  lad 


JEWEL   OR   PASTE.  I49 

whom  they  all  thought  a  complete  duffer.     "He's 
a  very  fine  fellow  at  bottom;    there   are  o-raiid 
points   about   it,"   Sir   Anthony  was   accustomed 
to  declare  when   chaffed  on  the  subject;  and  as 
he  was  not  the  man  to  nn'nd  either  the  chaff  or  the 
opinion  of  others,  they  were  not  enlightened,  and 
the  fi-iendship  continued   and  grew  apace,  grew 
and  flourished  until  the  regiment  got  orders  for 
active  service  and  went  off  to  the  Soudan— part  of 
that  army  of  vengeance  sent  out  too  late  for  aught 
but  to  win  for  the  British  government  the  scorn 
and  the  contempt  of  all  the  powers  in  Europe; 
sent  out  just  as  the  greatest  hero  of  modern  times' 
was  sent  before  it;  just  as  the  cruel  school-boy, 
conscious  only  of  his  own  power,  and  heedless  of 
all  else,  ties  a  string  to  a  bird's  leg  and  lets  the 
little   thing  fly   to   its   destruction.     Oli,  shame! 
shame!  to  send  an  army  to  make  war  upon  tliose 
who  were  not  the  chief  offenders,  while  the  real 
foe  stood  afar  off  and  made  long  noses  of  derision 
and  contempt  at  us !     Still,  full  of  shame  as  tiie 
ill-fated  expedition  undoubtedly  was,  opportunities 
were  not  wanting  for  regiments  and  men  to  give 
proof  to  the  world  of  what  stuff  they  were  made, 
despite  the  despicable  strings  which  tied  them  by 
the  leg,  and  fortune  so  far  favored  young  D'Arcy 


150  WITU  THE  TWENTY-FIFTH  DRAGOONS, 

de  Bolingbroke  that  he  was  given  the  chance  of 
showing  his  brother-officers  whether  in  truth  he 
was  jewel  or  paste. 

It  happened  to  fall  to  the  lot  of  his  regiment  to 
make  a  long  march  forward  with  a  convoy  of 
fresh  water  for  the  troops  occupying  the  zereba  on 
ahead  of  them,  and  it  happened  that  on  the  way  a 
swarm  far  outnumbering  the  British  troops  came 
down  upon  them  like  a  wave  of  the  sea  or  a  whirl- 
wind, and  threatened  by  sheer  force  of  numbers 
to  annihilate  them  altogether. 

Owing  to  the  fact  that  Escott  was  down  with 
enteric  fever,  Urquhart,  long  before  promoted  to 
the  rank  of  major,  was  second  in  command,  and  as 
Colonel  St.  Aubyn  was  disabled  very  early  in  the 
fray,  he  very  soon  had  the  whole  responsibility  of 
pulling  off  the  affair  with  safety  and  credit  to  the 

regiment. 

Hastily  a  square  had  been  formed,  with  camels 
and  baggage-wagons  in  its  middle,  where  the  sur- 
geons accompanying  the  force  were, alas!  already 
too  busy  attending  to  the  hurts  and  wants  of  the 
wounded.  It  was  necessarily  neither  a  large  nor 
a  very  strong  square.  The  numerical  strength  of 
the  enemy  seemed  endless,  and  tlieir  fanatical 
courage  made  them  desperate  and  utterly  reckless. 


JEWEL   OR   PASTE.  151 

On  to  the  square  at  various  points  thej  rushed— 
nay,  flung  themselves  again  and  again,  until  at 
last,  to  Urquhart's  dismay,  the  line  was  broken. 

"Good  God!"  he  cried, "  II  Troop  has  given 
way.  I  knew  they  would.  Here  "—looking  round 
for  some  one  to  cai-ry  a  message  —  "oh,  here,  Do 
Bolingbroke,  get  across  there  as  fast  as  you  can, 
and  send  the  Blue  Jackets  over  to  stop  the  gap" 
—for  a  few  men  of  the  Naval  Bi-igade  were  the 
only  men  not  of  his  own  reo-iment. 

All  along  he  had  been  doubtful  of  tlie  men  of 
II  Troo]),  being  yomigsters  who  had  never  seen 
active  service,  and  bearing,  as  entire  troops  do 
sometimes,  particularly  when  the  officers  in  com- 
mand of  them  hai)pen  to  lack  that  smartness  and 
that  popularity  which  arc  needed  to  make  a  troop 
worth  its  salt,  on  the  M'hole,  the  veiy  worst  of 
charactei-s;  but  that  they  would  waver  and  break 
h"ne  as  they  were  doing  then  he  had  hardly  feared, 
and  he  fairly  hungered  to  be  in  their  midst,  spur- 
ring them  to  better  thino-s. 

However,  he  was  bound— having  the  safetv  of 
the  entire  force  at  stake— to  remain  where  he  was 
and  keep  all  his  men  in  sight,  turning  anxiously 
every  moment  to  watch  De  Bolingbroke  go  at  his 
best  pace  in  the  direction  of  the  men  of  the  Naval 


152  WITH  THE  TWENTY-FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

Brigade.  He  saw  that  he  delivered  his  message, 
and  then,  instead  of  coming  back  at  once  to  his 
post  at  Urquhart's  side,  saw  him  ride  quietly  to 
the  mass  of  confused  men  and  horses  at  the  part 
where  the  square  was  broken,  dismount,  and  disap- 
pear among  the  others. 

"  What  is  the  young  idiot  after  ?"  said  Urquhart 
to  himself,  impatiently,  straining  his  eyes  to  try 
and  discover  him. 

But  it  was  useless.  He  saw  that  the  men  of  the 
Naval  Brigade  went  with  a  run  to  the  breach,  and 
presently  those  of  H  Troop  seemed  to  take  heart 
of  grace  and  make  a  better  fight  for  it.  Step  by 
step  the  horde  of  blacks  were  driven  back,  and  the 
line  was  reformed.  Still  there  was  no  sign  of  De 
Bolingbroke,  and  Urquhart  turned  with  a  very 
ugly  word  indeed  to  the  work  which  needed  his 
attention  and  his  head  at  other  points.  Slowly 
the  time  passed  on,  and  at  last  it  was  easy  to  see 
that  the  blacks  were  getting  the  worst  of  it — so 
much  the  worst  of  it  that  they  were  not  only  beat- 
en off,  but  their  retreat  was  followed,  and  numbers 
of  them  sent  straight  to  paradise,  as  their  belief  is. 

It  was  not  until  then  that  Urquhart  was  en- 
abled to  look  after  his  men  who  had  been  wound- 
ed.    He  found  poor,  prosy,  argumentative  St.  Au- 


JEWEL   OR  PASTE.  153 

bjn  just  at  the  point  of  death,  quite  unconscious 
of  Ills  presence  or  of  anything  that  was  going  on 
around  him.  Lord  Archie  was  badly  liit  too,  but 
bearing  liis  pain  cheerfully,  and  desperately  anx- 
ious to  hear  the  exact  particulars  of  the  action. 

There  were  others  besides  Loi-d  Archie  who 
had  had  ill-hick  that  day,  though  none  so  severe- 
ly wounded.  Urquhart  saw  them  all,  and  then 
came  suddenly  upon  young  D'Arcy  de  Boling- 
broke  sitting  on  a  case  of  stores,  pulling  very  hard 
indeed  at  a  pipe. 

"Halloo!  you  here?"  he  said, sharply.  "Why 
didn't  you  come  back  to  me?" 

"  Well,  sir,"  answered  the  lad,  taking  his  pipe 
from  between  his  teeth,  "  I  saw  that  the  men  of 
H  Troop  were  getting  flnrried,  and  I  thought  I 
shouldn't  be  much  use  to  you  if  I  came  back, 
and  I  might  help  to  keep  their  hearts  up  a  bit; 
so—" 

"And  who  the  devil  told  you  to  think?"  asked 
Urquhart,  angrily.  "I  sent  you  with  an  order, 
and  your  duty  was  to  come  back  to  me  as  soon 
as  you  had  delivered  it.  I  am  perfectly  aware 
you  did  great  service  with  II  Troop,  but  at  the 
same  time  you  had  no  business  to  thiiih ;  nobody 
expected  you  to   thinh^  or   asked  you    to   think. 


1^        \WITH  THE  TWENTY-FIFTH  DRAGOONS. 

How  could  you  tell  whether  you  would  be  of  use 
or  not?  As  it  happened-  AVhy, halloo!  what's 
up?"  he  cried,  suddenly  changing  his  tone;  for 
the  lad  had  reeled  off  the  stores  case,  and  lay  a 
fainting  heap  at  his  feet. 

After  a  minute  or  so  the  senior  surgeon  came 
bustling  up.  "  Halloo !  halloo  1  Why,this  is  worse 
than  I  thonght !"  he  exclaimed. 

"  What  did  you  think  ?"  Urquhart  asked,  as  be 
held  the  lad's  head  against  liis  breast. 

«  He  told  me  half  an  hour  since  he'd  got  a  cut 
on  his  arm, but  that  I  might  take  the  worst  cases 
first,"  the  surgeon  replied.  "  But,  by  Jove!  the 
bone  is  pretty  well  shivered  to  pieces.  The  lad 
must  have   endured   agonies;   and  the  arm  will 

have  to  come  oif." 

"De  Bolingbroke,"  said  Urquhart,  an  hour  later, 
"  I  wish  to  Heaven  you  had  come  back  to  me." 

"  It  was  done  before  that,  major,"  said  the  lad, 

■simply-  . 

And   that  was  how  he   showed  his    regiment 

^vhether  he  was  jewel  or  paste,  and  that  was  wl.y- 
he  got  the  cross  of  honor,  which  bears  two  words 
"  For  Valor." 


THE   END. 


BEN-HUR :  A  TALE  OF  THE  CHRIST. 

By  Lkw.  VVallack.     New  Kditio,,.     pp.  r,r,2.     ir„n„  (jloth 
$1  60. 

Anything  ho  HtartlinK,  "..w,  a,.,I  .Ihnur.uu-.  a.  tl.c  I,M<lin^  f.at„r.  of  thm 
romance  docH  not  oft..n  a,,,,.ar  in  work,  of  fiction.  .  .  .  Hon..  of  Mr  VVal- 
lacH  wr.t.ng  ,h  r.n.arkaMe  for  it.  ,.atl,.tic  do^jnonc,.  'Hu,  H^.-ni-H  ,]«, 
Hcnbcl  .n  tl..  New  Tc.tan.cnt  arc  rewritten  witi  ti.o  power  an-l  kill  o^ 
an  accomplMli.;<J  niaHtor  of  »f.y!,..._;V.  K.  7',rrwj, 

ItH  roal  baniH  in  a  .l.Hcription  of  tl.o  life  of  tl..  Jr,wK  an,|  Ilornann  at  ll,. 
bcKinninK  of  th.  Cl.n.tian  era,  and  tl.i.H  i.  both  forcible  and  brillianf 
Wc  are  earned  throngi,  a  .^-n  pricing  variety  of  Meene«;  we  witne.H  anea^ 
fight,  a  ehar.ot.race,  t».e  interr.al  economy  of  a  I^,man  galley,  domextie  in- 
teriorn  at  Ant.oeh,  at  Jer,i.alem,  and  an.ong  the  tribes  of  the  denerf  naU 
acc-H  pn.on.H  the  haunt,  of  di.-.ipated  Itomar.  youth,  the  houne.  of  'pion, 
farn.heH  of  iHrael.  There  in  plenty  of  exciting  incident;  everything  i, 
annr.afed,  vivid,  and  glowing.— A^.  K  7'nJmM. 

From  Uie  opei.ing  of  the  volume  to  the  very  ch>He  the  rea^ler'n  iou.re.t 
wJll  be  kept  at  the  highcMt  pitch,  and  the  novtd  will  be  pronounced  by  all 
one  of  the  greatcHt  novels  of  the-  day— />,,/,>,«  /Ul 

.  ^'i'  [""  "^  f''"-''''^  '"-•'""J'-  ^■'^  'l"^"«»'  •'"".  of  an  EaHU.n,  «age,  and  ihero 
J8  Hufrjcient  of  Oriental  cuHtom.,  geography,  nomenclature,  etc.,  U,  ereatly 
strengthen  the  .'',emblan..e.-//W.,rt  Comrrumw^allh.  '        b   -      / 

"Uen-Hur"  i«  interesting,  and  it.  characteri/..tion  Ih  fine  and  strong. 
Mf^nwhile  It  evincc«  careful  Mt.idy  of  the  period  in  which  the  Kcene  \h  laid 
and  will  help  tho.e  who  read  it  with  reasonable  att.:ntion  to  realiz..  the 
nature   and  condition.,   of  f/ebrew  life  in  Jerusalem  and   Ii.,man  life  at 
Antuich  at  the  time  of  our  Kavioiir'M  advent.— /i>yiwiV,«-  \   y 

It  iH  really  Scripture  hi.-.tory  of  Chri.Ht'H  time  clothed  grae>;fully  and 
dehcau.-ly  n,  the  flowing  and  lor^e  drapery  of  mo<len.  fic-tion  fVv,  Ut.- 

workH  of  fiction  excel  it  in  genuine  ability  and  inUre^t.-.V.  V  (Jraphir 

One  of  the  mm^  remarkable  and  delightful  brx.kfl.  It  i^  an  real  and 
warrn  an  l.f^,  itself,  and  -^^  attractive  a.,  the  grandest  and  mont  heroic 
cfiaptera  of  hiiiU,ry.~/Tu/ian»f^,fU  Jourrud. 

The  b<x,k  13  one  of  .inrjucHtionable  p^,wer,  and  will  be  read  with  un- 
wonU;d  intorc^t  by  many  readers  who  are  weary  of  the  conventional  novel 
and  romance.— /fo*^,n  Jouriud. 


Prmj.sJTfin  by  IlAItPEIt  &  lilif/rjIETlS,  Nkw  Totik. 

«-  The  above  wwk  mU  hy  matt,  jy.nUujt  T>repaU,  (a  any  part  of  lU  CniUA  HUUf- 
vr  (Jana/Ju,  cm  receipt  r,j  tk«  price. 


AT  THE  RED  OLOVE. 

A  Novel.     Illustrated   by  C.  S.  Reinhart.     pp.  246. 
12ino,  Extra  Cloth,  $1  50. 


We  have  tried  to  express  our  admiration  of  the  brilliant  talents  which 
the  "  Red  Glove  "  displays— the  accurate  knowledge  shown  of  localities  ; 
the  characteristics  of  the  surroiniding  population,  and  the  instinctive  read- 
ing of  the  inner  selves  of  the  various  personages  who  figure  in  the  story 

A  charming  idyl— iV.  Y.  Mail  and  Express. 

The  execution  is  admirable The  characters  are  the  clearest  studies, 

and  are  typical  of  a  certain  phase  of  French  life.  ...  The  story  is  fanciful, 
graceful,  and  piquant,  and  Reinhart's  illustrations  add  to  its  flavor.— i?o«- 

ton  Journal. 

The  peculiar  vivacity  of  the  French  style  is  blended  with  a  subtle  char- 
acter-analysis  that  is  one  of  the  best  things  in  that  line  that  has  been  pro- 
duced for  a  long  time.  It  is  one  of  the  most  brilliant  pieces  of  literary 
work  that  has  appeared  for  years,  and  the  interest  is  sustained  almost 
breathlessly. — Boston  Evening  'J'raveller. 

The  authoress  of  "  At  the  Red  Glove  "  knows  how  to  paint  a  flesh-and- 
blood  woman,  grateful  to  all  the  senses,  and  respectable  for  the  qualities 
of  her  mind  and  heart.  ...  All  in  all, "  At  the  Red  Glove  "  is  one  of  the 
most  delightful  of  novels  since  Miss  Woolson  wrote  "  For  the  Major."— 
N.  Y.  Times. 

The  novel  is  one  of  the  best  things  of  the  summer  as  a  delicious  bit  of 
entertainment,  prepared  with  perfect  art  and  presented  without  a  sign  of 
effort. — N.  Y.  Commercial  Adrrrtiser. 

It  is  an  artistic  and  agreeable  reproduction,  in  bright  colors,  of  French 
sentiment  and  feeling.  ...  It  is  an  abiding  relief  to  read  it,  after  such 
studies  as  novels  in  this  country  fashionably  impose— Boston  Olohe. 

A  charming  little  story.  .  .  .  The  characters  are  well  drawn,  with  fresh- 
ness and  with  adequacy  of  treatment,  and  the  style  is  crisp  and  ofttimes 
trenchant. — Boston  A  dvcrfiscr. 

A  very  pretty  story,  simply  and  ex(iuisitcly  told.  .  .  .  The  ups  and  downs 
of  the  courtship  are  drawn  with  a  master's  hand.— Chicinnati  Inqnirer. 

There  has  been  no  such  pleasant  novel  of  Swiss  social  life  as  this.  .  .  . 
The  book  is  one  that  tourists  and  summer  idlers  will  do  well  to  add  to 
their  travelling  libraries  for  the  seasoa.—Fhiladelphia  Bulletin. 


Published  by  IIARrER  &   BROTHERS,  New  York. 

r  The  above  tvork  sent  by  mail,  postage  jncpaid,  to  any  part  of  the  United  StaUa 
or  Canada,  on  receipt  of  the  price. 


THE   BREAD-WINNERS. 

A  Social  Study.     IGmo,  Clotli,  $1  00. 

A.ue,.ican.  The  ano.y  ^  s^u  ll  '  ?«  "''  "'"'""^^  ""^  aggressively 
He  has  seen,  and  ho  L  Z:::^  ^2^:  ^'T  t^' "l  l^"""^-- 
Amenean  life  which  no  one  has  put  into  a  Lk  before        "l  f  '""  "' 

jvaise^unstinte.  p.ise,  shouM'L;;- "ir^ss^^:;:::; 

mediate  re-reading.lc;;/.^'  Y         ''  ""  '°  ''"'^  """^'  ^''^  ^^^^  ^^  i'"" 
It  is  a  f -nly  remarkable  book.-.V.  Y.  Journal  of  Commerce 

,  Eve.;  pa^  of^,::^^,.!;;  i^  t  .^s  Hn^of  ^'^r  '"'"''■ 

long  use  has  made  exact  literary  exprilu  .  ?  ''"'"'  '°  "'^°'" 

the  conversation  of  son.e  of  those  giteraihef .'       «P«"taneous  as 

ea......e  .e  should  1  ^X^t  ^^^^I^^^X^-"  ^"^'"  ^ 

be^a;;:d^:S::;r::t;:;^  ^  te"":V^  r^'^^^- 
nu-ntaland  moral  strurSof  thosewh!  '  "'^'"'^'  ^"  '^^■'■'^■^  ^''^ 

selves  oppressed   is  also  ov.l .     \  ''  ^''^'■'  ^'"^  ^^''''^  '^'^"'-^^•^"  ''"^"i- 

i-  .l.lin'eation  o1  e  ua;:^^  Vf"J^::  Sl!"^''""^'"^  ''  *^^  ^"■"-  ^^  '" 
-Kl  Ananias  Offit,  the  viiir  L  ,  .y  "'' ^^T^^^^^  ^"'T'"^ '"='"' 
'"t"  I'lay  and  work  out  the  author's  idea  ;re';ill>"''  V'"  ''''"S 
<iivi'i>'alitv  maintained  ind  ,h.v  i  \  \  ,  ^  '  ''™'^"'  '"^"^  ^''^i''  in- 
nate fan.iliari,;  u"lt^  :^';!^^:,;^'^  ^  '^'^^'-'"-s  that  shows  inti- 
ing  with  it.-.V.  ^.  ^,;:-:;'^:5;;;;;'^"  "  unquestionable  ability  u.  deul- 

PtiBusHED  Bv  HARPER  &  BROTUERS,  New  York 

»-  Habpkk  &  Rkothkrs  will  send  the  above  work  bu  mail  ««.. 

van  Of  ike  umtca  state,  or  Canada^ontZt^Tu'^^^^^^^^^       '"  ""^ 


UPON  A  OAST. 


A  Novel.    By  Charlotte  Dunning,    pp.  330.     16mo, 

Cloth,  $1  00. 

It  embodies  throughout  the  expressions  of  f°"i^^  American  frank- 
ness  is  well  conceived,  well  managed,  and  brought  to  a  delightful 
and  captivating  close.— ^»a?J2/ -P?'e«s.  .,,.-•  •  ♦       ♦ 

The  author  writes  this  story  of  American  sociallife  m  an  interest- 
ing manner  ...  The  style  of  the  writing  is  excellent,  and  the  dia- 
logue clever.— iV.  Y.  Times. 

This  story  is  strong  in  plot,  and  its  characters  are  drawn  with  a 
firm  and  skilful  hand.  They  seem  like  real  people  and  their  acts 
and  words  their  fortunes  and  misadventures,  are  made  to  engage  the 
reader's  interest  and  sympathy.  —  Worcester  Daily  hpy. 

Thrcharacter  painting  is  very  well  done.  .  .  .  The  sourest  cynic 
thlt  ever  sneered^at  woman  cannot  but  find  the  little  story  vastly 
entertainins. — Commercial  Bulletin,  Boston.  _ 

The  life  of  a  semi-metropolitan  village,  with  its  own  aristocracy, 
eossips,  and  various  other  qualities  of  people,  is  admirably  por- 
frayed  .  .  .  The  book  fascinates  the  reader  from  the  first  page  to 
the'  last  — Boston  Traveller.  ,      ,  .„       j  ..,       i. 

The  plot  has  been  constructed  with  no  little  skill,  and  the  charac- 
ters—a  1  of  them  interesting  and  worthy  of  acquaintance-are  por- 
tnVyed  with  great  distinctness.  The  book  is  written  in  an  entertain- 
ini?and  vivacious  style,  and  is  destined  to  provide  entertainment  for 
a  laree  number  of  readers.  —  Christian  at  ^ork,  JN .  1 . 

One  of  tlie  best-if  not  the  very  best-of  the  society  novels  of  the 
sc&'Bon.— Detroit  Free  Press.  , 

Of  peculiar  interest  as  regards  plot,  and  with  much  srace  and 
fn'shnesa  of  stvle. — Brooklyn  Times.  ,  ,       , 

The  plot  has-been  constructed  with  no  little  skill,  and  the  characters 
-all  of  them  interesting  and  worthy  of  acquaintance-are  portrayed 
with  great  distinctness. -^i«-sw;w^  i?twrrfe;-,  Philadelphia 

A  clever  and  entertaining  novel.  It  is  wholly  social,  and  the 
theatre  is  a  small  one  ;  but  the  characters  are  varied  and  are  drawn 
with  a  firm  hand  ;  the  play  of  human  passion  and  longing  i.s  well- 
l-fi  ed  and  brilliant  ;  and  the  movement  is  efEectiye  and  satisfac- 
tory The  love  story  is  as  good  as  the  social  study,  making  alto- 
gether an  uncommonly  entertaining  book  for  vacation  reading.- 
Wilmington  (Del.)  Morning  News. 


PuBUSHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  New  York. 

i«-  Habper  &  Brotubub  will  send  the  above  work  by  rmil,  postage  prepaid,  to 
Qiuy  part  of  the  Unm  mt^  oj  Ca,mda,  on  receipt  of  the  prm. 


"AS  WE  WENT  MARCHING  OX." 

A  Sto.7  of  the  War.     By  G,  W.  Hosmke,  M.D      „n 
310.     ICmo,  Clotli,  $1  00.  •  '    I P- 

and  his  conversations  neatlv  managed  _  v  Y  ItllV  fA  ^^^  natural, 

This  is  really  a  fine  story,  in  which  marching  and  fi.rhtin-  and  Inv.  ,. 
blended,  yet  one  never  interferes  with  the  otlfer  7     h"        ,  ^'*' 

ness  of  camp  life,  the  rude  comfort  of  the  h    om'..;.  " /i      ,      .  f"y'"'-'^«q"e- 
march,  there  is  not  in  all  the  wiMns  o   ^„ it        .  ■  '""•'J-^'"P«  of  the 

any  such  foreofu,  description^:-;  ;;;^"i;;u:;iii.2.i;;;sr 

Interesting,  hoth  as  a  novel  and  as  a  description  of  t\T^!Z!  u!        \ 
soldier- the  discomforts  of  rainy  ni-ht.    n  i.hh  L  X  u"*^  ^'^^ 

bivouac  in  a  country  filled  with  foes/  ?    Tl.c  jit,    mi   ;  n        "■  ^""""'^ 

Sljendan-s  ride  up  the  ^^^elT:.':::;:^^^^ 

Engli''sh._/>.V,..6«,y,  >Lr  '  '°  "'   P"''^'  g'-^^'-^f"'.  and  vigorous 

Dr.  Hosmer  has  written  a  spirited  storv  thit  will  int..,.n^f    1 1 
ers  on  both  sides  of  the  rebeKio.    coS      Tl,  i  campaign- 


Published  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  New  York. 

•  Haupf.k  &  Bkothkus  »w7/  s.«rf  the  above  work  by  mail,  postane  vrevaid  tn  n,„. 
part  0/  tke  Untied  State^or.  Camda^on  receipt  onhe^rZ  ^ 


BOOTS  AND  SADDLES; 

Or,  Life  in  Dakota  with  General  Custer.  By  Mrs.  Eliz« 
ABETH  B.  Custer.  With  Portrait  of  General  Custer, 
pp.  312.     12mo,  Cloth,  $1  50. 

A  book  of  adventure  is  interesting  reading,  especially  when  it  is  all  true, 
as  is  the  case  with  "  Boots  and  Saddles."  *  *  *  She  does  not  obtrude  the 
fact  that  sunshine  and  solace  went  with  her  to  tent  and  fort,  but  it  in- 
heres in  her  narrative  none  the  less,  and  as  a  consequence  "  these  simple 
annals  of  our  daily  life,"  as  she  calls  them,  are  never  dull  nor  uninterest- 
ing.— Evangelist,  N.  Y. 

Mrs.  Custer's  book  is  in  reality  a  bright  and  sunny  sketch  of  the  life 
of  her  late  husband,  who  fell  at  the  battle  of  "  Little  Big  Horn."  *  *  * 
After  the  war,  when  General  Custer  was  sent  to  the  Indian  frontier,  his 
wife  was  of  the  party,  and  she  is  able  to  give  the  minute  story  of  her 
husband's  varied  career,  since  she  was  almost  always  near  the  scene  of 
his  adventures. — Brooklyn  Union. 

We  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that  no  better  or  more  satisfactory  life 
of  General  Custer  could  have  been  written.  Indeed,  we  may  as  well 
speak  the  thought  that  is  in  us,  and  say  plainly  that  we  know  of  no  bio- 
graphical work  anywhere  which  we  count  better  than  this.  *  *  *  Surely  the 
record  of  such  experiences  as  these  will  be  read  with  that  keen  interest 
which  attaches  only  to  strenuous  human  doings;  as  surely  we  are  right 
in  saying  that  such  a  story  of  truth  and  heroism  as  that  here  told  will 
take  a  deeper  hold  upon  the  popular  mind  and  heart  than  any  work  of 
fiction  can.  For  the  rest,  the  narrative  is  as  vivacious  and  as  lightly  and 
trippingly  given  as  that  of  any  novel.  It  is  enriched  in  every  chapter  with 
illustrative  anecdotes  and  incidents,  and  here  and  there  a  little  life  story 
of  pathetic  interest  is  told  as  an  episode. — N.  Y.  Commercial  Advertiser. 

It  is  a  plain,  straightforward  story  of  the  author's  life  on  the  plains  of 
Dakota.  Every  member  of  a  Western  garrison  will  want  to  read  this 
book ;  every  person  in  the  East  who  is  interested  in  Western  life  will 
want  to  read  it,  too;  and  every  girl  or  boy  who  has  a  healthy  appetite 
for  adventure  will  be  sure  to  get  it.  It  is  bound  to  have  an  army  of  read- 
ers that  few  authors  can  expect. — Philadelphia  Press. 

These  annals  of  daily  life  in  the  army  are  simple,  yet  interesting,  and 
underneath  all  is  discerned  the  love  of  a  true  woman  ready  for  any  sacri- 
fice. She  touches  on  themes  little  canvassed  by  the  civilian,  and  makes  a 
volume  equally  redolent  of  a  loving  devotion  to  an  honored  husband,  and 
attractive  as  a  picture  of  necessary  duty  by  the  soldier. — Commonwealth, 
Boston.  

Published  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  N.  Y. 

tS"  Habpbb  &  IJROTHKns  will  xend  the  above,  work  by  mail,  poatajje  prepaid,  to  cm§ 
part  of  the  United  Utales  or  Canada,  on  receipt  of  the  price. 


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